


Christine in the Grass

by TwineLove, Twinelove89



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek Online, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Bones, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, BDSM, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Drama & Romance, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Knotting, Light BDSM, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse, omega chapel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-03-03 18:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 45,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwineLove/pseuds/TwineLove, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twinelove89/pseuds/Twinelove89
Summary: An accident traps Leonard and Christine together during her heat. A story about struggle, power, free will and what it really means to be a bastard.Repost from the TwineLove account (I couldn't remember my password!)





	1. Chapter 1

Christine in the Grass

 

“If you want me again look for me under your boot soles.” --Walt Whitman (Leaves of Grass)

 

Chapter 1--

 

It was practically a medical fact around the Enterprise sickbay that she was his least favorite. The other nurses called it 'going to Chapel' when he called them into his office to berate them. She could have built a summer home on his shit list and everyone knew it was personal. She dropped things, gave too much or too little medication, was constantly referring to her PADD and asking annoying questions that she should know the answer to, but so did all the others in her year.

So what was it about her that he found so intolerably irritating? Maybe it was the fact that she was so clearly a Yankee. The small pendant brooch with a glossy anchor from some Yacht club, the turns of phrase she used, even the way she flicked her hair back from her face when it slipped out of her braid somehow screamed East Coast nouveau riche to his ears. Perhaps it was the way she hummed sometimes as she was going about her duties. Perhaps it was the way she giggled occasionally at an inappropriate time—rocking back and forth as she tried to restrain herself.

Whatever the reason for his dislike, Nurse Christine Chapel had stood at the end of Dr. Leonard McCoy's desk, head down to hid the pressed-together lips and the humiliated flush more times than he could remember. But he had never seen her look so utterly petrified as she did just then.

Her normally creamy pale skin was almost sheet white with fear and pain. The sensible, professional bun she wore to work was mussed and sloppy now and the fingers gripping the medical cabinet that pinned her to one wall were cut and bleeding.

“I think... I think something's gone clean through my calf,” she said unnecessarily as he bent in front of her. He had the tricorder out already and could see quite clearly the wicked piece of metal that had pierced through her peroneous longus.

Though it must have been agony she'd made the right decision not to push the cabinet off herself. When he pulled it free he knew it was going to bleed profusely. She might have bled out looking for a tricorder or a bandage. Despite himself, he was impressed. He'd seen more than one person who should have known better pull something out of their own wound, some of them quite a bit more seasoned than she was.

“On three I am going to lift this off of you Nurse Chapel. Don't try to help me push. Just lie as still as you can and try not to let the leg move as much as possible. Do you understand?”

“Yes Doctor.”

“One...Two...Three.”

She gasped as the cabinet came free but she held still as he'd commanded. Blood rushed from a wound the length of his index finger like lava pouring from a crack in the earth. He bent down again and held the muscle together as he engaged the beam of the tricorder that would knit the flesh whole again. Once the wound was healed he went to the cabinet and got out some rubbing alcohol and cleaned the area around the wound of blood to make sure that the surface was fully intact and he hadn't missed anything. The pungent stuff ran pale pink into her shoe and sock, soaking them, but she didn't complain.

“You'll need to take an antibiotic and an antiviral to make sure it doesn't fester. Wash you hands with soap as well and get everything that might be in there out of those wounds too before you close them.”

“Yes Doctor.”

He stood and looked around the sickbay as she did as she was told. The normally obsessively clean space was a jumbled mess. The cabinets were locked tight but whatever had been out on the counters was strewn across the floor as were the contents of several medical carts that had been knocked over. With a sigh he went to his office and began to try to piece together in how big of a pickle he had really landed.

A few moments later the chime on his door sounded.

“What?” He snapped. She came in with a basin of water and a wary expression. “What is that for?”

“Your right arm Doctor.”

He glanced down and for the first time noticed that he was bleeding sluggishly from his right forearm. He nodded. “Leave it. I'll attend to it in a moment.”

Carefully she placed the basin, a bandage and two pills on his desk. “What happened Doctor?” She asked nervously.

His jaw clenched. “The ship split in two. Diplomatic mission my ass. That's probably when the cart was thrown into you. The medical bay and lord knows how much of this side got torn off.”

On the whole though he knew they were damn lucky to have been where they were when the ship tore apart. There was an auxiliary power supply that fed the medical bay when the main power was shut off. Without it they would have lost life support immediately even if they hadn't been sucked out into space.

“Are.. are there any other survivors?”

His mouth tightened. “Your guess is as good as mine. When I left the bridge the Captain was working to beam most of the crew down to the surface and separate the saucer section. I don't know if he was successful.”

She bit her lip. “Where are we now?”

He grimaced. “Floating mostly. I turned on the sensory system long enough to get our position and heading. Now I'm trying to figure out where in the name of all the angels that lands us.”

“Have you turned on a homing beacon?”

He shook his head.

He could see by her expression that she knew the implication of that. The power supply to the medical bay was never meant to be used long-term and it wouldn't replenish itself. He hadn't turned on the beacon because he'd seen from the sensors that they were headed into some fairly uninhabited space and he didn't anticipate running into any ships anytime soon. With the Enterprise torn in two their only chance of survival was to come within short hailing distance of some planet or colony.

“Have you calculated our closest landing point?”

He shook his head. “I can't get the telemetry on this damn thing right. I will brief you when I know more.”

It was such a clear dismissal he was surprised when a moment later he realized that he hadn't heard his door close again. He looked up. The damn girl was still in his doorway, biting that damn lip and looking nervous. “What?”

“It's just... I think I have some experience with that system sir. If you like, I could give it a try?”

He didn't bother to keep the incredulity from his voice. “You have experience with telemetry?”

“Yes sir. I've been sailing since I was a girl and small yachts use a similar navigation algorithm.”

He almost sighed. Of course she'd been sailing yachts since she was a girl. “Oh by all means then Nurse Chapel, be my guest.” He slid the PADD towards her and took up the washcloth she'd left for him in the basin.

As he washed and bandaged his forearm he watched her work. He she wasn't exactly sure what she was doing. But neither did she look entirely lost. She was working through a problem that she'd never solved before but she was doing it systematically.

He was impressed.

It was a not something a lot of people knew how to do in his experience. He would have expected her to be daunted in the face of something new but instead she looked only concentrated.

After a while she frowned and wordlessly slid the PADD back to him. He glanced down and to his surprise saw that she had indeed solved the problem. There on the display was their set trajectory if nothing intercepted them done to within a tolerance of a meter on either side. He was less pleased when he saw where it was. It would be eight and a half days before they were within short hailing distance of anything-- a small moon that served as a junction stop between two small shipping lanes in this quadrant.

“Well I hope you like the taste of emergency rations Nurse Chapel.”

Her brow furrowed. “Is the replicator not working Doctor?”

He shrugged. “Maybe but even if it is functional itself it's useless without the library, which is stored centrally in the main memory banks: a part of the ship we no longer can even see out of a viewing port.”

“Even... even the medical library?”

“Yes that too, of course. Though I've told the engineers at least a thousand... are you alright Nurse Chapel?”

She'd gone suddenly very pale. “Yes, fine Doctor. It's just the stress.”

He got up and came around the desk. She flinched back from him. “I only want to measure your pulse,” he told her gruffly. He took her by the wrist and found that it was racing. But when he scanned her with the tricorder he found she wasn't bleeding internally. Her heart rate was elevated and her blood was racing but there was no physical cause for it that he could find. Perhaps she was right and it was only stress.

“You should get some more rest Nurse. It's almost two hours past standard midnight at any rate. We should get some sleep, though it isn't as though we'll have much to do tomorrow anyway.”

“Yes Doctor.”

She was a bigger idiot than he thought if she didn't think he could hear her crying. Christ he could practically smell her tears. The thought of it made him irritated. It made him want to yell at her to shut up, to grow a spine, to stop being so goddamn melodramatic. Instead he'd ground his teeth and tried to relax on the cot in his office.

Half an hour later when she was still sobbing and he was no closer to sleep he got the Romulan ale out of the drawer in his desk and poured himself a hefty glass. It didn't help though. He lay awake listening to the small, pathetic noise of her pain. Only when after two hours she quieted down and he could hear the soft, even sound of her breath in sleep was he able to fall into a restless sleep of his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the rest of the story as posted previously! Please please please leave me a comment to let me know what you think!

Chapter 2--

 

He woke with no idea how long he'd slept. The lights were brighter than he remembered which meant that the circadian rhythm of the ship's computer thought that it was officially “daytime” but he had no idea past then. It was the chime on his office door that had woke him.

“Come in.”

The girl who came back into his office was an unexpected creature. Her eyes were slightly swollen from crying the night before but he'd never seen Nurse Chapel look so serene. She stood at the end of his desk as she always did, waiting for him to acknowledge her. But when he raised his head she met his gaze. She was back in uniform. She must have taken a sonic shower and brushed her hair. It was now carefully braided back into something that would have passed muster at a Star Fleet parade.

And she didn't wait for him to speak first. “Dr. McCoy I need to speak with you about something.”

“What is is Nurse?”

“I... I am currently in need of a medication that I require but do not believe is currently on board.”

He nodded. “What medication?”

She hesitated, pressing her lips together. “Estriphenolate.”

For a moment he couldn't remember what that was used for. It had been so long since he had heard it. His brow drew together, surely she was making a mistake. “What medication?”

“Estri...”

“You're an Omega?” The words snapped out much harsher than he had intended and she straightened under them like she might a lash.

“...Yes, Doctor.”

For a moment he fought the urge to gape at her. Was this a bad joke? A bad dream? But it seemed to real to be a dream and she didn't look in the least bit like she was kidding him around. His head was pounding from the ale and he thought he might be sick. He needed some time to think without her around, gawking at him like that. “Nurse you are excused.”

She didn't run but it was a near thing.

When she was gone he grabbed the PADD and pulled up her file with shaking hands. The girl had to be mistaken. The little irritating slip of a thing was no Omega. He'd believe she was crazy before he'd believe that hokum. Had he left any whiskey stashed around the bay for her to find? She hadn't seemed drunk but she'd only been in for a moment.

Secondary genders had become so irrelevant they were marked on the second page of a medical history now. But there her's was: a neat little radio button like a sledgehammer between his eyes. Christine Chapel: Omega. He shoved the PADD back and for a moment considered going back for another round with the Romulan Whiskey in his drawer.

Instead he took a deep breath of the air in his office. There was the usual smell of a medical practice—antiseptic and neutral—and there was his own smell as well. But hers lingered quite strongly too. For a moment it smelled just as it always did: neutral and Beta, as bland and sterile as a hospital gown. He took another breath and focused in on that smell. His nostrils flared immediately and his teeth snapped together.

There, underneath that neutered stench was something he couldn't quite place. Masked as it was he didn't know quite what her scent was but it made him think of summer—long days and starry nights, fertile fields and well-watered crops in the sun.

“Fuck!”

It was something out of a badly written Omega porn novel: an Alpha and an Omega trapped together just as she goes into estrus. And she would go into estrus soon enough. She'd probably been on hormone suppressive therapy since she'd hit puberty. Most Omegas were in this century.

The Eugenics Wars had all but done away with the Omega population. The Augmented had none of the endemic respect for Omega life that human Alphas and Betas knew from their very DNA. The brutal climate of those fifty years where her gender had been traded and brutalized had not been one in which they had flourished. Perhaps fifty Omegas were born a year these days and most of them masked their nature like she did—with suppressors and shampoos that mimicked Beta scent markers. A handful were open about their nature but they were mostly exorbitantly priced courtesans or the spouses of the extraordinary wealthy.

That's what Omega had come to mean in this century: prostitute. In the movies they were always portrayed as sex-crazed seductresses, ready to be mounted by the most potent Alpha in their vicinity. They weren't so much as characters but archetypes: wanton sex embodied in the ultimate form. Even the Orion slave-girls couldn't compete.

And fuck Christine Chapel through heat if she wasn't about to prove the stereotype. Now that she no longer had access to her suppressors her hormones would come back with interest to repay. Omegas who had been on suppressors as long as she had didn't simply come back off of them without consequences. Withdrawal could be done safely over a period of months but Omegas who had cut cold turkey could die in their first heat if they couldn't find an Alpha.

 

 

 

 

She was sitting staring off into space when he stepped out of his office, her fingers trailing across her lips. He'd been at work for more than an hour but somehow he suspected that she had been waiting for him all that time. Really what was there to do in sick bay with no patients to care for or reports to write?

She stood immediately though, hands at her sides, waiting. Just before he'd come out he'd sprayed a numbing spray up both nostrils. It wasn't very powerful. Once her heat was on it would be about as much use as throwing a spoonful of water onto an inferno but for the moment it was enough. It was odd to look at her without her irritating smell, almost as if he was looking at a new person.

He wondered how he had ever not known what she was. If you'd asked him before today he would have said her most striking characteristic was her blond hair but now he couldn't pick out just one. The soft line of her jaw, the smooth, slender legs and arms, the pert noes and plump lips now all seemed to scream out at him her nature. Suddenly he was glad for the spray for an entirely new reason.

 _But I have known what she was,_  he realized with a start.  _I've known what she was from the beginning, at least on some level, or I would never have despised her so much._ It may never have occurred to Leonard McCoy the man that she might be an Omega but somewhere, deep down, the Alpha had always known. The irritation he felt from looking at her had evaporated as soon as he'd removed her smell from the equation and he knew, with a flash of intuition, why that was. With her Beta shampoo over her natural scent she'd read to him like an Omega who had allowed a Beta to scent-mark her.

He'd heard of this happening before. It was rare for Alpha's to be able to smell anything underneath the Beta shampoo but it did happen and always with disastrous consequences. An Omega marked by a Beta was, for an Alpha, the worst kind of challenge. In the last year there had been a somewhat famous case of an Alpha girl in an expensive all-girls boarding school beating another girl brutally after school. Her lawyer had argued that it was because the other girl was a concealed Beta she'd been driven into a rage. Ten years ago there had been a famous Omega singer who alleged that his manager of twenty years had been abusive towards him because of his hidden second gender. He supposed a little extra shouting at her was fairly mild in comparison but he still, he felt like an utter bastard.

Though there was almost no point to it she'd cleaned up most of the bay and got the beds into working order. Perhaps out of habit, perhaps to please him.

He pointed to the nearest examination bed. “Come here and sit down please Christine.” It was a command but said not without a certain accommodation (if not to say tenderness).

He saw from the subtle change in her expression she'd notice he'd called her by name. It was one of his known idiosyncrasies that he called his patients by name and not rank. A remnant of his days as a civilian doctor. She did as she was bid and he took a seat on the low stool where he always sat.

“When did you last take your Estriphenolate?”

“The morning of the attack.”

That was between forty-eight and thirty-six hours from now. He did a quick calculation based on the metabolic half-life of the drug. “You should begin to notice its absence in twelve to twenty-four hours. Full heat could take as long as three days or as little as two. Have you ever missed a dose before?”

“Maybe once. Never twice consecutively. I'm very careful.”

Did he detect a hint of defensiveness in her voice?

The cowardly part of him wanted to look away from her in this next part. No matter how much human pain he saw, humiliation never became easier to watch. But he didn't believe it was any healthier than shame and he wouldn't let himself flinch away. He met her eyes. “I suspect you already know this but I need to make sure you understand what will happen next if we are not rescued in the next two days.”

She nodded, swallowed, and didn't look away.

He chose his words carefully. Delicacy and tact had never been exactly his strong-suits but even he knew some where called for when it came to proposing that he fuck his patients for their own health. “It is my medical opinion that at this time detoxification from Estriphenolate would be dangerous for your health. I am recommending that you be rutted through your heat. If you do not wish for this course of action to be taken I can program the lock on the door to my office so that it cannot be opened from either side for a period of five or six days and we can make as many preparations as are possible to ensure the highest probability of your survival. However if you choose the later course, you will be doing so against medical advice.”

“What is the probability of my survival?”

“Robust statistics are not available but from the literature I would say between ten to fifteen percent chance of survival with some precautions.”

For a long moment she stared over his shoulder. He could see the muscles in her neck straining as her jaw clenched. “If I choose to be locked up AMA, that goes in my medical history right?”

He frowned. “I will keep medical records of any choice you make Christine. You and I will certainly have to communicate with our superiors on the Enterprise and at Star Fleet Command after this.”

She gave a short, humorless bark of a laugh. “Oh I don't doubt that there will be a lot of communicating.”

What did she mean by that?

“You're worried this will hurt your chances of promotion in Star Fleet?”

She gave him an unexpectedly sharp look, as if she suspected he was making fun of her. But she must have seen the confusion in his face because she relented a moment later. “Yes, something like that.”

 _Your secondary gender is in your file and it's inconveniences, if that is what you choose to think of them as, are known. You can hardly be faulted for the confluence of circumstances_ , he wanted to say. But it felt too patronizing. Instead he said, “if you choose to write your own report of this incident I can provide you with an envelope you can seal. I will sign the outside of the envelope and include it with my own version to send to Star Fleet. Additionally I would of course welcome you to read my report in its entirety at the conclusion. If you chose to sign it at the bottom you may, if not that is your choice as well.”

For a long moment she stared at him, expression unfathomable. He found himself noticing, for the first time, how lovely her eyes truly were. How had he missed, in all the months they'd worked together, the dark, complex blue color of her eyes? Or the long, dark lashes and pale soft skin that surrounded them?

“What would you do if you were me?”

The question caught him by surprise. He considered for a long moment. “Are you asking me as Leonard or as Dr. McCoy?”

She hesitated. “You've already given me your medical opinion.”

Had she balked at calling him Leonard? She'd phrased it carefully so as not to say his name.

“If I'm honest I have to say I don't know Christine.” He said finally. “I think it would depend on how I felt about the person I was proposing to go through it with. I think there are some people in this universe mean enough and twisted enough that I wouldn't want to live through being at their mercy like that.”

She swallowed. “Are you...” She trailed off, looking down.

“No, I am not.”

“How do you know?”

He carded a hand through his hair and sighed. “Did you know I was married once before?”

She shook her head.

“I was, for about twelve years. And for about ten of those years she was off her suppressors.”

Her head snapped up. “She was an Omega?”

He sighed. “Yes, yes she was.”

“And she divorced you?”

“Well I don't like to split hairs but I think it's only fair to say that I divorced her.”

Christine's mouth nearly fell open. Omegas who were open about it were extraordinarily rare and very much prized by Alphas. The relevant equation was something like a luxury car squared multiplied by all of your closest friends hottest girlfriends in terms of a status symbol.

“I can tell you want to ask why. Go ahead, it won't offend.”

“Why?”

“She made me miserable. Utterly, desperately miserable. God I hated her in the end. I used to wake up thinking about how much I hated her....But it weren't ever a question that I'd ever deny her anything during her heats. I may be a mean, ornery old man but it takes a bigger bastard than me to do that.”

She was quiet for a long moment. “What is it like?”

“Heat? Rut?” He thought for a moment. He didn't want to terrify her but neither did he want to leave her uniformed. A day ago he might have erred on the side of caution but for some reason he decided to tel her the truth. “It's brutal, animalistic. An Omega in his or her heat has to be handled roughly, needs to be really, and an Alpha in rut is more than happy to oblige. It's a display of power, one side submitting and the other dominating completely. There is no give or mercy in it, there' can't be. For all the civilization we've concocted on top of these impulses, the impulses have remained unchanged since the beginning.”

She swallowed. “What if I can't submit?”

He shook his head. “The first time sometimes feels like a dream afterward. It won't be Christine Chapel who does what you do in heat, not any recognizable form of her. Your Omega nature will allow you to submit when you need to.”

She was silent after that, head down.

“You can take some time to decide if you want. Sooner than six hours would be for the best. I would like you to decide before you start feeling the effects of withdrawal.”

She shook her head, attempting a weak smile. “No, I've made my decision. I do not need to be locked in the office, thank you Dr. McCoy.”

He swallowed. It was the decision he had suspected she would make, the one he thought most would make in her situation. But the surety with which she spoke took him aback. Masquerading as a Beta she had been timid and retiring. Revealed as what he was surprised to find her more forthright instead of less.

“In that case I would like to give you a more powerful contraceptive than you're currently taking and recommend a full blood panel for both of us.”

She smiled. “If you put it in my file I'm sure the Nurse will get to it as soon as she is able.”

He let out a short laugh. “I'll make sure you're the top priority today.”

He went back to his office when the blood panels were done (both clean) and charted the encounter. He got out the envelope he had promised her and to his surprise found himself lingering by his bookshelf. He read over the titles, wondering which Christine might like. She didn't have anything really to do in the sick bay and he wanted her to feel comfortable.

 _The provider instinct_ , he thought. But knowing it's name didn't make it abate. It was an understatement to say it was normal for Alphas to bring gifts to Omegas they were interested in. It was almost an inescapable law of nature. Courting Alphas were ludicrous in the way they doted on their Omegas. Typically they brought lavish gifts—jewelry, cars, anything they could think of. Hell he'd bought his ex-wife their house when they were courting. But he wasn't sure he could claim to be truly courting her and he wasn't sure she would welcome it.

Finally, feeling guilty, he selected The Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman and brought it out to her along with the envelope. “I thought you might be bored.”

“Thank you very much.”

He went back into his office and fought back the urge to scream or pour himself some Romuland Whiskey. The Sword of Damocles settled over the sickbay as it hurtled through space.

 

### Notes:

> Please leave me a note to tell me what you think so far! I am really curious to know what you like/don't like/are curious about/ect!

###  [Chapter 3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1714721/chapters/3746726): Chapter 3

### Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for [notes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1714721/chapters/3746726#chapter_3_endnotes).)

### Chapter Text

Chapter 3--

 

Leonard woke the next morning already semi hard. In his dreams he'd found Christine in his quarters naked on his mattress. He'd climbed onto the bed and unceremoniously flipped her onto her stomach. Her pert little ass bruising under his fingers as he slid into her warm depths and rutted her hard. He'd just been on the edge of knotting her when he woke.

He groaned and scented the air. She was still hard to distinguish from that filthy Beta garbage she wore. He wanted to bite her throat for wearing it. He wanted to put a mark on her that would remind her and everyone else that she was his and no one else's.

Instead he focused in on her scent. She wasn't as far along as he was he realized with a start. Normally heat drove rut. An isolated Omega would go into heat every few months spontaneously whereas an Alpha who had never seen an Omega might never experience rut. Ideally of course both would move together simultaneously but there was always a lag between the hormones and usually an Omega arrived at their peak before the Alpha. But that fucking perfume was making him crazy. He should have known. Of course the smell of a Beta on her would accelerate his rut.

It felt like a challenge.

He got up from the mattress he'd put on the floor and went to the door of his office. She was on the office chair he'd moved out for her, reading Leaves of Grass and chewing on a protein bar. She stood up though when she saw him, as she always did. He struggled to keep his voice even as he spoke. “Christine I need you to go wash that scent off you right now.”

“What?”

“That Beta soap you use. Go wash it off right now. Don't use the sonic shower. Use soap and water and scrub vigorously.”

She nodded vigorously. “Okay, sure.”

He went back and shut the door, and fought the urge to sink back against it with an audible groan. It was impossible not to think about going into the shower room with her and pushing her down to her knees on the tile. Under the spray he'd push into her warm, willing mouth while one hand tangled in her wet hair. He'd use her mouth roughly and then pull her up to kiss her sweetly and finger fuck her hard against the wall.

He managed not to do that but he was waiting for her when she returned, hair damp and unbraided but with her uniform on. He took her by the hand and pulled her toward him. He knew she could smell that his rut was on him and she trembled in his arms as one large hand rested against the smallest part of her waist.

He knew he should pull back, knew he shouldn't be doing this at all but instead he leaned in close to inhale the juncture where her slender neck met her shoulders. She smelled like honey, a cozy, lived-in bed, warm bread and good soil. He licked a long strip from her shoulder to the base of her ear, and damn if it wasn't the most gratifying thing he'd ever tasted. Better than the best bourbon in the world, and infinitely more intoxicating. Her hands went to his waist and she shuddered in his arms again but this time he didn't think she was thinking of pulling away.

He leaned back when he was done, keeping one hand on her waist to keep her still though. With the other he took her chin in his fingers and tilted her neck over to the other side. He angled her head into a presentation pose. Later he'd like to see her do this on her knees as well. It exposed the most vulnerable parts of the neck—the jugular, the scent glands and, most importantly, the junction where a Bond mark could be placed.

“Hold you neck just like that.”

He licked another strip up this side of her neck and bit the earlobe lightly, making her gasp and hims stiffen.  _You belong to me now_.

He'd replaced the Beta scent with his own. Now she smelled like her scent and his intertwined. Now any rival would know who she with and have to fight him if they wanted her. It was ridiculous of course. There were no rivals around. What he'd said was ridiculous too. She didn't belong to him and she never would. Still, it made him slightly calmer.

He stepped back from her and she blushed, casting her head down.

He felt immediately like a cad.

With some difficulty he managed to say, “it's never too late to change your mind about the office option.”

She shook her head. “Do you need me now?”

“In these circumstances I would prefer for you to find me when you're ready.”

He'd live to regret those words. The next six hours felt like the longest in his life. He tried to read, tried to work on medical back logs, tried to do almost anything. But in the end mostly what he did was pace.

When she did come she knocked once demurely and waited for him to call “come in.” But when she pushed open the door she looked wild. Her pupils were already dilated and he could smell her slickness leaking down her leg.

He waited for her to come to him but she stayed instead at the door. “What is it Christine?”

Shyly she offered him her hand and he came to take it. She led him down to the opposite end of the bay where she had shoved two mattresses against one corner of the bay. Over the sterile, plastic foam she'd put hospital gowns and blankets to make a comfortable space for them to lie down.

 _The Nesting Instinct_  , he thought.

She glanced at him shyly for approval. “I don't...”

“I'm honored.”

Strangely he felt as though he was standing suddenly in the eye of the hurricane looking at her. The pounding rush of hormones driving his rut receded momentarily as he considered the enormity of what he was about to do. Kissing one of his nurses. Fucking one of his nurses. Rutting a nurse that he'd been known to be on unfriendly terms with. He was going to have a lot of questions to an answer by the time he was done explaining this.

An yet, he couldn't turn away from her. The interplay in his relationship to her was too complex for him to fully fathom. His roles as her commanding officer, Doctor and even her prospective Alpha were overlapping and contradicting enough to make his head hurt. But as Leonard McCoy he found he didn't want to leave her as she stood: exquisitely beautiful and in desperate need.

As slowly as he could he lowered his lips to hers. He kissed her once tenderly and her mouth yielded so beautifully beneath his if he hadn't already been half hard it would have been enough. She moaned and he pushed her back against a cabinet, one hand cradling her head to shield her from the brutality of the blow. “No,” she groaned, grinding her hips on his. “I need that.”

He smiled against her mouth. “You'll get it soon enough.”

With one hand he jerked up her skirt while with the other he tore down her top. The fabric ripped as he ripped it down over one breast and lowered his head to take her nipple into his mouth while simultaneously plunging into her with his fingers.

Fuck but she was tight. And already so wet and hot. She was like a furnace and dripping down over his hand. “Fuck honey you're so wet for me.”

“Yes, just for you.”

He fucked her with his fingers as hard as he liked. There was no danger she'd come this way. She wouldn't be satisfied until he was knot-deep in her. “God you're exquisite. I'm going to make you fucking incandescent.”

Her fingers gripped his hair as he bit lightly down on her nipple, just hard enough to get her attention. “Please. It's not enough.” Her hands were scrabbling at his shirt, trying to rip it like he'd ripped hers but she didn't have the right angle for that.

He stood back and with a single motion pulled off her dress. For a moment that felt like an eternity he tried to savor the sight of her in just a bra and panties. She was flushed with lust, pupils already blown wide, and panting slightly. Her lips were raw from where he'd kissed her and she smelled of honey and him. “Take off the bra. Do it slowly.”

It wasn't a strip tease. She didn't do it with any finesse. She was too far passed the wiggle-and-shimmy part of herself. She was hungry. But she'd heard the order and she was willing to obey. Slowly she unhooked the bra and slid it down over her arms. He swallowed. “Now the panties. Slowly.”

Again she bent and pulled them off without any attempt at sexiness. The matter-o-factness was somehow infinitely better though. She looked at him with her arms at her sides, naked and willing, waiting for another command and he thought his head would explode. Or maybe his cock.

He pulled off his own uniform, never taking his eyes off of her. “I am going to fuck you until you can't walk straight for a week.”

Her mouth opened but all that came out with a slight little inhalation, almost a gasp.

“I am going to fuck you like those Beta boyfriends never could. I am going to knot you until you can't remember who you are.”

She shuddered slightly and pressed her thighs together. “Please.”

He pushed her down gently. Taking her first to her knees and then pushing her forward. She was young and inexperienced but her body moved easily into a perfect presentation position as if she'd been doing it all her life. “You were made to be fucked.” He tried to take a moment to enjoy her as he positioned himself behind her but she was too needy. She pushed back on him, looking for satisfaction.

He made himself go slow, though it wasn't easy for either of them. She may have had sex before but clearly never with an Alpha and certainly not from this position. Her mew of pleasure and pain when he slid fully into her was enough to make him feel light-headed. The warmth of her was overwhelming. The tightness seemed to draw him in further somehow.

“Please, please, please...” She was chanting into the mattress.

“Say my fucking name.”

He dug his fingers into her hips, hard enough to bruise.

“Leonard.” She gasped.

“Again.”

“Leonard.” And this time as she said it he snapped his hips back and into her again. He didn't go easy on her and it drove the breath out of her. He needed to show her that she had taken a strong Alpha to her heat. He needed to show her his superiority, his brutality even. But her body was made for this kind of use.

“Again.”

“Leonard.” Again he snapped his hips brutally.

“Leonard... Leonard... Leonard....” She chanted to the rhythm of his thrusts. At first it was her voice that drove his thrusts, him waiting on her to set the pace. But soon it was the other way around. She was panting to keep up against his pace of his hips pounding into her. He was beginning to feel his knot forming.

“You're so good for your Alpha. So wet and tight for me.”

“Please Leonard it isn't... please, I'm yours please.”

“You're mine!” It was a snarl.

“I need you. I need everything. Just, Leonard, please...”

He bent over her to get a deeper angle and still it wasn't enough. He needed to be always a part of her, to mark her, to claim her. He needed to be the only man to ever see her like this or do this to her. He looked down at the wide stretch of her back, admiring the small waist, the flare of her hips and the slender back and neck.

It seemed to him almost in slow motion that he watched her tilt her head, pushing her forehead and inclining herself in just exactly the way he'd shown him so that junction of her heck and shoulders was fully revealed to him. She was presenting to him. His already frantic heartbeat raced out of control.

It had never occurred to him that she might offer to Bond while they mated. He'd never thought it was a possibility. But while everything in his head screamed not to do it—shouted at the top of it's lungs about chain of command, abuse of power, that she was his subordinate and he was her commanding officer—everything in his being screamed to go through with it.

He knew with an utter certainty that she would let him. It was his right too. By turning her head she had offered and he could accept if he wanted to. And God did he want to. Even with his first wife the urge to bond had never been this strong.

When an Alpha bit an Omega in heat it Marked the Omega and established the two as pair Bonded. The Omega would never again be able to accept another Alpha in their heat. In centuries passed it had been nearly a form of slavery. Bonded Omegas were considered the property of the Alpha who had Marked them. They couldn't stray or have an affair and neither could they travel away from their Alpha for more than the time between two heats. For this reason virgin Omegas had been highly prized in history. They'd been bought and sold like cattle in some of the more cutthroat Greek city-states. In feudal Europe deals between neighboring Lords often involved the exchange of Omegas from each household.

Even now some of the old prejudices remained. If he Bonded her it was unlikely that Star Fleet would reprimand him. If she had offered herself to be Marked it was still seen as his right to accept it. Though it wasn't written down anywhere most people took the attitude of 'Who could blame him after all?' when it came to Alphas. Rut was seen as a nearly unstoppable force.

It would be a scummy thing to do though, even if he was technically allowed. Bonding to a girl this young, at his age, in her first heat? He would have looked down on any other man who did it, if the girl was willing or not.

He ran his tongue over her honeyed flesh. He was right on the edge. They were both right on the edge. All he had to do was sink his teeth into her and they would both come immediately. A tidal wave of pleasure that they wouldn't match until the next time he tore open her Bond wound to remind her of her place would flood them both, obliterating everything for a few moments. It would be pleasure unlike he had ever known and likely ever would. His teeth skimmed over her and the sound she made was unbelievable. The little mewling whimper of a sound went straight to his cock unlike anything ever had before. He wondered what she would sound like when he bit her truly.

Would she sputter and choke from the shock of it? Cry out in exquisite agony? Would her back arch against the force of his superior body crushing her down into the mattress, trying to push her tiny form as hard as she could against his own? Would her eyes fly open wide to let him see the moment when she became his truly? He wanted to know. He wanted to see her.

Pulling back from it though was the hardest thing he'd ever done. His arms shook as he leaned back, gripping her hips with fingers trembling. God if he hadn't been close to taking her. Later he would look back on that moment with horror—how close he had come to claiming her, this child, this subordinate—but just then he had to bit his own lips until he drew blood to keep from leaning back down. She moaned her disappointment and he had to gave her a particularly hard stroke to settle her. “Hush now honey. Do as you're told. Just focus on my knot.”

His knot—the thick ring of flesh around the base of his cock that would tie them together after coupling—was beginning to swell. It was becoming harder to get in a full stroke. She was groaning and beginning to struggle as he fucked her. “Leonard it's too big...please... it's too big.”

“You can take it. You will take it.” He pulled back and pressed it against her, letting her feel the full size of it. “You are going to take all of that.”

She moaned. “It's too...”

He gripped her hair. “Hush now.”

He pushed it in cruelly slowly, taking his time as she moaned in a mixture of agony and ecstasy. She needed this though. The disappointment she'd felt when he'd refused her the bite needed to be re-payed. He owed her this.

At the widest part of his knot he stopped for a moment. He knew it must hurt, she was moaning in pleasure and pain but he wanted her to feel it. “You're so good for me. You take it all for me. You'd take anything I gave you wouldn't you?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“Tell me you'd take anything for me.”

She was gasping, almost incoherent. “Please... oh, anything... just please... just....”

“Say my name.”

“Leonard! Leonard!”

He pushed into her with a roar and felt her insides contract as her orgasm hit. She was chanting his name and it turned into an torrent of sounds in his ears. Her hands fisted in the bed covers and she tried to pull herself up but he pushed her back down, folding himself over her and pushing her down until she was beneath him. He clasped her hands in his and pushed her forward until she was pinned underneath him, helpless and trapped.

His own orgasm hit soon after. Her contracting insides milking a hot torrent from him. He exploded with a roar, collapsing on top of her. He'd never felt anything so good as pumping her full of his seed. It was a razor sharp pleasure enveloped in a consuming satisfaction. In the damp warmth of her he felt he might loose track of himself. Where his body ended and hers began seemed suddenly far less distinct than he'd previously imagined and he wanted to sink down into the warm abyss of pleasure that she was beneath him.

For a while they lay like that, him on top and her beneath. He reached beneath her and stimulated her clit until they both had a second orgasm, softer and less intense though still enough to make her moan delightfully. He considered making her give him another but decided it was too much. Already she was limp and boneless in his arms

He rolled her onto her side and pressed her legs between his thighs. One hand he trapped over her breasts, rolling one nipple in his fingers absentmindedly. “What happens now?” She asked as they lay together, unable to separate.

He could tell by the tone of her voice that she had gone back, for a moment, to thinking of him as Doctor McCoy. Her heat (and consequently his rut) was satisfied for the time being and she was struggling to regain her normal sense of reality—one in which her boss didn't bend her over and fuck her brains out.

He supposed in a certain way it was a sensible reaction but he couldn't bring himself to struggle along with her. She felt too nice in his arms and around his cock for him to think of her as Nurse Chapel. There would be time enough for that later.. “You can go to sleep or we can talk. While I'm still lodged inside of you I think I'm pretty much on your time honey. Are you comfortable?”

“Very.” He knew she was telling the truth too. This close could feel her heartbeat and the rush of her blood. Besides, she was utterly limp.

“So, what'll it be.”

“Will you tell me a story?”

“Of course I will Christine.”

He told her about growing up in Mississippi. About his horse and the rattlesnake he'd killed one summer with a slingshot. He told her the names of his dogs, his sisters and his cousins (in that order). By the time he got around to telling her about the swimming hole she was asleep and he was only half hard. He could have slid out of her if he'd wanted to but he found instead that he only pulled her tighter against his chess and rolled her slightly under him before going to sleep himself.

They fucked four more times that night. Twenty two more times over the course of the next four. He made her kneel for him and present her neck. He fucked her face in the shower like he'd fantasized about and it was better than he'd imagined. He pushed her legs up until her knees where in her chest and ate her out until she was sobbing and begging for him to knot her.

He did knot her every time too. He didn't tell her how rare that was, to go through a full heat and knot every time. Most Alphas couldn't do it, most Omegas couldn't handle it. He didn't know how she could walk with how roughly he used her, much less how she could wake panting for it in the night again and again.

She was insatiable. Even for an Omega it was impressive.

But on the fifth day he woke with her in his arms but he could smell that the heat and rut were over. For a guilty moment he just lay there, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. He knew he should get up and leave her with her modesty but he almost wanted to kiss her sleepy lips, tweak her nipple and see if she wanted a nice, slow, gentle fuck before breakfast. He felt like she would, if she had really been his. Instead he contented himself with placing a small kiss on her forehead and slipping out before she woke. He tweaked the covers up over her and went to shower the smell off of him in the sonic shower.

He got her breakfast from the stock of rations and left it on her bedside while he retired to his office. He heard her get up some while later, shower and eat.

 

 

### Notes:

> Oh man, why are all the windows so foggy all of the sudden? Anyway, please leave me a note and let me know what you thought/loved/hated/wanted to know more about! I love feedback! I would absolutely love to hear anything you have to say about the writing, the story, the characters, my portrayal of the characters, the interaction, the A/B/O universe as I see it, my grammar, the smut... anything! Let me know!

###  [Chapter 4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1714721/chapters/3782398): Chapter 4

### Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for [notes](http://archiveofourown.org/chapters/3782398#chapter_4_endnotes).)

### Chapter Text

Chapter 4--

 

 

Leonard fought the urge to put his hand over hers as the rocket rumbled and screamed, the engines warming up beneath them like an angry hive of bees. He was glad to be on a rocket and finally off medical bay, reeking as it did of her and their coupling. He was glad too to be headed back towards civilization, rules and regulations, and almost anywhere he could get away from the maddening smell of her.

He clenched his hand against the urge to gentle her, instead touching the PADD he had tucked into his jacket pocket. Handing over the official report to Star Fleet felt like a sane, sensible thing to do and he could use a little sanity these days. He could feel her agitation growing in the seat next to him like a hive of insects beginning to spill over.

He doubted that she feared flying herself. These young things never seemed to mind rattling off in whatever half-cobbled together rusty bucket of bolts anyone thought might be spaceworthy. But this close to her heat she could undoubtedly sense his fear and it was making her even more uncomfortable than him. He felt guilty. It was his fear that they were ping-ponging back and forth after all. But the guilt only made him more irritated with her, and with himself.

A single hand on her arm, or better still the back of her neck, and she would settle down immediately. She would remember that he was right there beside her. The smell of her fear and agitation was making him want to take something apart with his bare hands.

Sometimes he couldn't really believe it had happened. He'd written it all down plain as day in his report but when he read it over again it felt almost as if someone else had done those things, and written those words. She was a strange creature too these days. She was like one of those illusion that could be either a rabbit or a duck depending on how the eyes focused on it. Sometimes when he looked at her he saw Nurse Chapel, annoying, chittering little twit of a green-as-grass nurse. Sometimes his saw Christine, the Omega who had taken his knot so beautifully.

He'd been careful not to change his behavior towards her one iota. He still snapped at her when he was irritated, berated her when he felt she was slacking and ignored her completely when he didn't find her of use.

But it didn't change the fact that she knew how he fucked.

She'd seen him in passion, at his least guarded. She knew how he liked to get his dick sucked, that he had a predilection for keeping her split wide on his knot before he pushed it fully into her and that he couldn't keep his mouth civil in front of a naked woman. He was no Southern gentleman when he took his clothes off and she had the bruises to prove it. Whatever was false in the persona he presented to the world—Leonard McCoy respectable, measured, fair and meticulous (if perhaps cantankerous) doctor—she had seen through by now. And she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had wanted to Bond her.

She was his nurse and she'd seen him in the moment when he'd almost Bonded her.

 _Jesus McCoy, where the fuck had that come from_?

It was a rare thing for an Omega to offer themselves in Bond. As with everything to do with secondary gender the bargain struck was hardly fair in the twenty-third century definition of the world. A Bonded Alpha might mate with other Omegas, even Bond and breed them if he liked, but a Bonded Omega would never allow themselves to be mounted by another Alpha once they had the Mark on them. In the days before suppressors Bonded Omegas often died if their Alphas were killed or taken from them.

Consequently they were understandably hesitant to offer themselves up. In the Middle Ages Noble women had been required to bond but most of the peasant Omegas chose not to. It was rarer still in the modern world, almost unheard of in truth. Even Helen had never offered him that, after ten years of being his wife and Omega.

It was such a complete act of submission.

A century ago it was held as the truth that Alphas were not capable of resisting the offer of a Bond and even now it hung around as one of those half-believed old wives tales. Something to scare and titillate virgin Betas and Omegas with. Bonding was everything an Alpha brain wanted, ultimate fantasy fulfillment to their beastly nature: an Omega who they had complete control over.

It wasn't necessarily that she wanted to be Bonded to him, even if she had offered, he reminded himself. If being an Omega carried a stigma, being a Bonded one carried at least ten times as much as that. It was not something likely to be beneficial to the career of a green nurse hoping to make a life for herself in Star Fleet.

No he wasn't kidding himself. She had offered in the madness of heat. He was a particularly potent Alpha and she was a young and inexperienced Omega in her first true Heat.

It wasn't arrogance in particular for him to assume that his virility as an Alpha had contributed to her willingness to offer a Bond. Where he came from everyone knew the McCoy family and everyone knew that there wasn't a Beta among them in living memory. It wasn't exactly uncommon in old Southern families either: just as it wasn't uncommon in the lineages of the nobility in feudal Europe, the Mongol raiders in Asia or any other indigenous culture large enough to have a ruling class. Alphas wanted the submission only an Omega could offer. Omegas wanted the protection of an Alpha. Those with enough power to get what they wanted tended to exclude Betas and consequently bore none as children as their DNA became increasingly polarized.

He had never been made to feel like he had to marry an Omega of course. He'd dated Beta girls in high school and college and his parents had never mentioned their secondary genders. But then one summer during medical school he'd come home and met Helen at a debutant ball. She'd been introduced to him by her father and they'd been married before he'd gone back to school in the fall.

She'd been a beauty queen, Miss Mississippi for two years in a row, and he'd been too star-struck to see anything else. He'd never though much about what, exactly, about him had made Helen so equally immune to sense though until it was all over. Maybe it was his last name, the family he came from or the fact that he was a doctor. But he didn't doubt that genetics had helped too. At her request he'd gotten some genetic testing done and even he had been surprised at the frequency of his Alpha genes. It was one of the highest he'd ever seen.

And even though Christine had never known any of that, somewhere in the basic, animal part of her brain she could  _smell_  it on him. The Omega part of her could smell that this was a man who could and would rip out the throats of anyone who threatened her or her children. When he had pushed her down onto the mattress she had tilted her hips up into presentation. When he had pushed her to her knees, she had tilted her head to the side to show her neck. Allowing him the chance to Bond her had probably felt as natural as breathing to her, with no thought spared for the consequences.

He shifted in the seat, suddenly uncomfortable for an entirely new reason. He still couldn't think of her on her hands and knees before him, offering a Bond, without getting half-hard. Still, he was glad he had been able to resist. A sweet young thing like her deserved better than to be Bonded to him. He was nearly fifteen years older than her, divorced, cynical and far too big of a bastard to ever make her happy.

A Bond was not something that was lightly gotten out of either. Even in this age of science it was still regarded (even tacitly by medical texts) as semi-mystical. The biology of it—hormones, mirror neurons, brain chemistry and the like—had all been explained but the manifestation of those things still inspired reverence and awe in most humans. With suppressants and time an Omega might be able to live apart from an Alpha eventually but the surge of hormones it would produce in both of them after the first bond would talk almost four months to die down, and that was if the Alpha could resist re-Marking the Omega (something that had been documented in literature only a handful of times). In those four months it would be impossible to separate and Alpha and Omega for more than a few days at the most. Separation of Bonded pairs had been known to drive both frantic, violent, even to self-harm if it wasn't relieved.

_It didn't happen though McCoy. Bastard that you are you didn't sink that low._

Ignoring the small part of himself that still felt dissatisfaction with that he leaned back in his seat and tried to relax. It was going to be a long trip home.

 

 

 

 

 

There had been surprisingly little fallout from the two weeks they'd spent fucking in a life raft falling through space. Jim had managed to salvage most of the rest of the Enterprise and by the time they'd made the rendez vous coordinates at the space station where it was being repaired, it was almost fully operational. The reports they'd written had been turned into Star Fleet Command and included in their permanent records. They'd both been sent for psychological exams and full physicals. But neither of them had been reprimanded. The whole thing seemed to have been filed under the official heading of  _Unfortunate Incident, Not To Be Repeated_  and forgotten about as far as Bones could tell.

He had insisted that the exams take place on a base, far from Enterprise personnel and that the medical records be sealed in their files in such a way that only someone with Priority One clearance who was specifically looking for it would ever find out that the addendum actually existed. In his experience the snoopiness of nurses was matched only by their ability to assume the worst. A sealed medical file pertaining to those two weeks would almost certainly be noticed eventually and once it had been there would be no end to the speculation on what it contained.

He'd left only one thing out of the report to his shame. He had not included any of the details of their coupling nor the relevant information that she had offered him a Bond. He'd considered it for a long while before leaving it out. He didn't feel that anything else she had done might be viewed badly by future potential commanding officers except for that. It bothered him quite a bit that it could be construed as manipulating the story for his own gain. As an experienced Alpha he should have been able to contain her better. The ultimate blame of course lay with him, any fool could see that, but he didn't think somehow that it would be seen that way. Omegas were traditionally the gatekeepers of Bonding. Explaining that she was inexperienced and overwhelmed though he felt might make her seem weak and naive to a potential commander.

So against his better judgment (and the Alpha part of him that wanted to scream from the roof tops that she had offered herself to him) he had left it out. And when she had read his report without comment he assumed he had made the right choice. It was part of his unofficial duty as her commander, he reminded himself time and again, to lie on her forms for her own good. If he'd reported everything that the idiots in his charge did honestly not a single one of them (from the Captain right on down to the meanest ensign) would ever have been allowed to leave Earth, much less maintain their post on the Enterprise. Still, it made him feel sleazy and dishonest and Bones hated that feeling.

Part of him had assumed Christine would transfer off the Enterprise when the dust had settled, a prospect he both dreaded an longed for. Having her back in his sick bay was distracting. She was back to wearing that disgusting Beta soap again which infuriated him all the more these days. Sometimes during staff meetings he would fantasize about taking her by the scuff of the neck into the showers and scrubbing the filth off of her and mounting her once or twice to teach her a lesson before he deigned to give her back his own scent marks. But no matter how much of an irritation she proved to be he found he couldn't bear the thought of her leaving either. Obviously he would never go so far as to block her transfer but the thought of her so far away made him feel wild.

What if she found another Alpha? What if she let someone else split her thighs? What if she took some other man's knot and seed?

He took to sparing with Jim again to let of some aggression. When even that wasn't enough he'd take a turn letting the Vulcan beat the shit out of him in the ring for an hour or two. These days there wasn't much of his torso that wasn't mottled with some stage of bruising.

It was all rubbish of course. He couldn't believe how insane he was being.

He'd known of course there would be some time that was needed for them to regain their distance. She was an Omega and he had had her. It would be a while before the urge to reassert his claim diminished. But he had been unprepared for how strong and steady it was. Even then, a month later he still dreamed of her most nights.

He took to using the numbing nasal spray to mask her scent after that staff meeting where he'd missed quite a bit of information and had had to play catchup the whole day for it. It helped some, but not enough. Getting drunk helped too, as did masturbation and cold showers. But none of it was enough.

Oddly enough it was the bourbon that brought them together again. He'd gone down to the ships bar for a drink and to read his book in the quietest corner. He smelled her when she came in. He hadn't used the nose spray and the awareness of her after so long shot through him straight to his cock like a bolt of lightening. The synthetic Beta smell was as revolting as ever but he could still smell her beneath it, like honey on the comb and summer rain.

He looked up and found she was looking back at him. She was with a group of her friends—some other nurses that he knew but also with a mix of ensigns that he didn't. She wasn't in her uniform but rather a dark purple dress that set off her eyes. It was modestly cut, almost to her knees and without much of her bosom bared but the sight of her in it made him salivate. Her blond hair was down in a loose mass of gentle curls and she wore only a small silver locket.

He nodded once to show he'd noticed her and she nodded back. With his foot, he pushed out the other chair so it was available to her and looked at it pointedly. She bit her lip but nodded once more after only a moments pause.

She said something to the girl next to her, an ensign he didn't know, before breaking off from the group to come over.

He stood and pulled her chair out for her, pushing it in as she arrived. “Good evening Christine.”

“Good evening.”

She didn't say Leonard though. Underneath the Beta scent he could smell that she was nervous. He couldn't help but like the smell of it. She was thinking about him fucking her, how powerfully he had rutted her and it made her as skittish as a new filly. God if he didn't want to break her in a little more.

“What's your poison tonight?”

“I'd like a beer please.” He raised an eyebrow at that. “What is that for? You look like commander Spock when you do that.”

“I've never looked like that green-blooded hobgoblin in my life. You just never struck me as the kind of girl who liked beer is all.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

The truth of course would never do.  _You cunt tastes like honey and you have a posh New England accent. All the girls I ever knew like that drank the coldest and most expensive white wine they could find._  Instead he said, “you just seem a little too delicate for that.”

“Delicate?” Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. Was she thinking about how roughly he had taken her? He certainly was.

“My mistake then... Maybe I'll have you swilling whiskey by the end of the night if you're starting out with those tastes.”

“I don't think so. But you're welcome to try.”

He signaled down an ensign who was serving and ordered a beer for her and another bourbon for him.

“I finished Leaves of Grass.” She said when the ensign had left.

“Oh? What did you think?”

“I can't believe I'd never read it before. It was beautiful.”

'  _Do anything, but let it produce joy'_  , he thought,  _of course you liked it honey_  .

“I'm sorry I haven't given it back. I only finished it last night. I should have asked if you wanted it back. I'll bring it to sick bay in the morning.”

“If you like it, it belongs to you.”

A small frown bent pink lips. “I couldn't possibly. It's a first edition, it must be very expensive.”

The Alpha part of him wanted to snarl at her for daring to refuse his gift. Instead he said simply, “it would make me very happy if it belonged to you from now on.”

“I can't ac...”

“You can and you will.”

He didn't speak loudly but there was a little note of steel and power in his voice that he neither anticipated nor welcome. But she didn't argue with him after that.

Their drinks came—a bitter, dark beer for her—and a warm, smooth bourbon for him. Without thinking he dipped a thumb into the bourbon and with the other hand gripped her chin. To his surprise she slid as easily as she had before into a position of presentation. He fought not to let his mouth fall open. He doubted that she understood the significance of falling so easily into presentation at his touch. If they had been courting it would have been an open sign that she would accept him again during her next heat.

He tried not to think about that. Instead he slid his thumb, covered as it was in alcohol down the length of her neck just as he had once run his tongue over her, masking the disgusting faux-Beta scent she used in the potent smell of the liquor. Quickly he pushed her chin to the other side, dipped his thumb into his drink again and repeated the movement.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment when he finally let go of her chin. He breathed in deeply for the first time since she'd sat down, relief flooding through him almost palpably. He knew she couldn't fail to see the way the bunched muscles in his shoulders and back uncoiled at the smell of her, the way his fingers relaxed on his thighs and even the hair on his arms stopped standing up. But she didn't comment. She couldn't meet his eyes and she was blushing furiously.

He knew he should feel guilty, later he would, but for the moment he simply enjoyed the new smell of her. Finally he said, “I don't really think I know the first thing about you Christine. Where are you from?”

“Massachusetts mostly. I went to boarding school in Connecticut when I was about ten though.” That explained the East Coast mannerisms then.

“You must what, golf then? Hunt perhaps? Ride horses?”

“Everyone does some of that stuff I suppose. I really prefer to sail though.”

“Oh? Are you any good at it?”

“I won the Junior Singles Female's Yachting Regatta for the Keys when I was seventeen but it isn't as impressive as it sounds. I got lucky and won against some much better sailors than me.” Her laugh was puckish: a combination of laughing at herself and the world that had let her get away with something.

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“A squall blew in. A lot of good sailors don't like to sail under those conditions but I always do well on a rough sea.”

“I bet you do. Where did you go for university and nursing school?”

“Paris for University and then Dar Es Salaam for nursing.”

He didn't bother to ask where in Dar she'd gone for nursing school. The University of Dar was one of the best on Earth and well known for it's nursing school in particular. She must have been quite bright to have gotten in. He made a mental note to look up her ranking. He'd bet anything it was quite high.

He had been noticing how smart she was since they'd returned. It had been there all along he felt, hiding in plain sight just like her Omega nature, if only he'd been sharp enough to recognize it. She wasn't exactly the most sensible nurse, nor the best with patients and like anyone else she dropped a tray from time to time. He'd shout at anyone for these kinds of failings because damn it if he ever admitted to himself or anyone else that his staff were ever allowed to be human beings instead of paragons of medical wisdom and professionalism in the sick bay. But in her case, could he truly say he'd been fair?

He'd dragged every member of his staff into his office at least one. Sometimes it felt like he'd dragged every member of the crew in their for a lecture too. But with her it had been excessive. Every small lapse, every tiny mistake had been magnified, examined and thrown at her.

She'd taken it too with a strange kind of stoicism. She must have known what it was about her that bothered him so much but she'd never mentioned it, never brought up her unfair treatment to him or his superiors. God he should have been mentoring her instead of trying to crush her out of nursing. She was too young to be the best nurse on his service by a light year but she was the kind of book-smart, whip-smart young woman that could grow into a formidable force of a nurse. The kind he'd be proud to have trained for years to come. Why had he only seen that now?

 _You stupid fucking Alpha_  , he berated himself.  _Can't even look far enough past your own cock to see what's right in front of you. God by every right this little sweet should hate me with all the strength in her body._

But all he said was, “that's very impressive Christine.”

“I've been given a lot of opportunities in my life.”

“How about your family? Are your parents still alive? Any brothers or sisters?”

“Everyone still lives in the Keys. My brothers didn't move far when they left home. Tim moved a little North, Eric and Charles moved a little south. Nathan went the farthest and he went West. Everyone used to joke that I'd have to move to the West and live on a ship in the middle of the ocean. They were half right at least I guess.”

She took off the necklace and put it on the table, flipping it open to reveal it was a little hologram projector. The image it displayed was of a family crowed around a couch, two spry looking sixty-year-old in the center and four strapping, handsome men standing behind it. They were holding Christine, who looked about seventeen, as she sprawled in a faux-lounge singer sort of way across their arms, one hand cocked on her hip and the other out in a ridiculous, exaggerated pose. “Oh Gods I'd forgotten how embarrassing this picture is. Never mind the silly pose. We'd all gotten into the eggnog early that morning. Those are my parents and left to right it's Eric, Nathan, Charles and Tim.”

“You look like you're having fun.”

Suddenly she seemed to realize how strange it was to have shown him that picture. She closed the locket and swept it around her neck again with an elegant gesture, blushing slightly and not meeting his eyes.

The girl in the photo—gay and carefree, drunk in the morning in the paternal living room—was one that he had never seen before. Perhaps he could have guessed that she was a joyful girl, silly and giggling when she was relaxed. But she wasn't every relaxed when she was around him. In every way he was a predator to her. If she showed him that insouciant underbelly he could rip it out.

She bit her lip. “I don't know why I...”

He took his wallet out of his trouser pockets and flipped it open. He put two holograms on the table. They weren't as high resolution as the one she had in her necklace, having been taken before the latest round of upgrades had been made to the technology. In one five children perched on top of a fencepost in a row in their Sunday finest. The starch in his shirt was starting to melt in the heat but he was grinning, gap-toothed into the camera and inexpertly holding a baby just under the arms so it drooped down into a frowning expression of resignation. “Izzie wasn't born yet when this picture was taken but that's Margret, Carol and I'm holding Victoria. You can't tell from the photo but Vicky and I grew up to be quite good friends”

She leaned forward across the table to look closer at the hologram and he fought the urge to scent her. She smiled up at him and for the first time he could see the little carefree grin of that seventeen-year-old in the photo. “I presume she's never seen this photo in that case?”

“I remember ma hollering at me to hold her better. I thought she was just running her mouth though.”

In the next photo he was just out of medical school, about her age actually, standing behind Vicky at what looked like her high school graduation. He was holding a beer in one hand and giving Vicky rabbit ears with the other. His mother to one side had her hand over her face in dismay, waving off the camera with the other. He smiled again. “And here I am showing Vicky how proud I am of her education.”

She laughed outright at that. “She at least looks a little happier in this one.”

“Vickys a good girl. She got married last summer. I went back to walk her down the isle.”

“What's her husband like?”

“I don't know him all that well. It don't matter much though. I know I'm supposed to get all brotherly and superior like I'm going to protect her and put the fear of God into all her boyfriends or whatever.” He took a sip of bourbon. “But honestly if he's married to Vicky, he can't fear God overmuch by now and he ain't going to be frightened by anything I have to say.”

She laughed. “That's a surprise. I would have pegged you as the protective type.”

He shrugged. “I suppose I am somewhat with the others, particularly Izzie. I guess I'm lucky that she's is getting married this summer to her childhood sweetheart. I'd have put Walter through hell if they hadn't grown up together and he didn't a non-gentle bone in his body.”

He put the photos back in his wallet and as he did he caught her furtive glance at the third photo in the little clear pocket. She didn't say anything and he temporized for a moment before finally he took it out. “And this is my daughter, Joanna McCoy.”

It was a school photo: a young, dark-haired, dark-eyed girl with equine features looking into the camera with an open, daring grin. He held it out and she took it from him gingerly. “How old is she?”

“She's fourteen now but she'll have a birthday here in a few months.”

“What's she like?”

“Lord only knows where she gets it from but she's sweet as can be. And with her mother's looks too, praise the Lord.”

She gave the photo back delicately and he folded it away with the others. She took a sip of her beer and then said, “thank you for showing me that Dr. McCoy.”

“Dr. McCoy is it now? It was Leonard a moment ago.”

“Is that what you prefer?”

 _Whatever makes you more comfortable_  , he meant to say. Instead he said, “Yes... Outside of sickbay at least.”

“Alright.”

“If you're comfortable with that.” He made himself add.

Instead of answering she said, “why is it that I sometimes hear you called Bones?”

“Oh that. It's an old joke. It was just something I said to Jim the first time I met him. He liked it and then it was what everyone at Star Fleet called me after that.”

“You mean Captain Kirk?”

“Yes, right, Captain Kirk.”

“I didn't know you two knew each other at Star Fleet.”

“Boy how I wish we hadn't. We were roommates though.”

“I didn't know that!”

He sighed. “Well I wouldn't dare show you the pictures to prove it. But it's true enough.”

She laughed, a tinkling little clap of a sound that made him shiver. “Were you there for the famous Kobayashi Maru test then?”

He snorted. “All three of them. What a waste of time it was too. Everyone goes on and on about it now as if it were some foreshadowing to his tactical genius but honestly it was just a huge pain in the ass at the time. Jim was a fucking idiot back then, if you'll pardon my French. Green as a new tomato and oblivious as apple pie.”

She put her hands over her mouth to cover a smile and he had to resist the urge to reach up and pull them away. “That's almost sacrilegious to say aboard the Enterprise you know?”

“Don't make it untrue though.”

She chuckled and he watched her for a long moment. When she'd sat down she was stiff as a board, almost trembling with anticipation. Now she was leaning back in her chair, one leg tucked under the other and an elbow slung over the back of her chair. He didn't think she'd noticed herself do it but she'd swept the mass of her hair to one side, exposing a long streak of neck and her eyes were alight with humor. It took everything he had not to shudder at the beauty of her. Gamine was the only word for her, and had there ever been one more glorious?

She took another swig of her beer, finishing it. He smiled. “I'll have another one sent to you if you'd like but it's past time for me to send you back to your party. I've monopolized you for far too long.”

She nodded and he stood, pulling out her chair for her. She rose and gave him a smile. “I enjoyed talking with you Leonard.”

“The pleasure was all mine.”

He read until she left and after she had he wished she'd stayed longer. Oh part of his mind had been distracted by her. Almost against his will he had tracked the people who had joined or left her party and he'd had to fight back the urge to tell the ensign to bring her water when she'd ordered a third beer. But in a larger way he found her smell comforting. He wished she'd come lay down closer to him, perhaps with her head in his lap where he could stroke her hair and breasts absentmindedly as he read. He wanted to know where she was and by her smell he knew that she was safe.

 

 

 

It took her three days to come back to the bar.

She wore a soft, under-stated, blue cotton dress that matched her eyes. It was a little low cut perhaps, but that was the least of her daring. She'd wrapped a little silvery scarf around her neck to the keep the smell in and that was probably enough to make sure that no one else noticed the difference, at least not consciously.

Phaser fire couldn't have made his head come up any faster. She hadn't worn it tonight. She'd come fresh from the shower with none of that normal stink on her. His eyes snapped to her like a tractor beam and he fought the urge to scent the air. She'd come in with those same girls again but she was looking at him, worrying one plump lip with her teeth.

He wanted to tell her that was his lip to bite. He wanted to kiss her gently and whisper how she had pleased him. He wanted to tell her to go to his quarters, hike that dress up over her hips and get down on her hands and knees and wait for him to come fuck her until she couldn't see straight.

Instead nodded once and pushed the chair across from him out with his foot. An invitation.

 

 

### Notes:

> Thanks PinkGlitterMasturbation for motivating me to put this up tonight! Hope you guys enjoy it! As always, please drop me a line to let me know what you think! How is the chapter? How are Christine and Leonard as characters? Am I fulfilling all your A/B/O dreams and staying true to the characters as you know/love them? Want a little more smut in the next chapter?

###  [Chapter 5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1714721/chapters/3816733): Chapter 5

### Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for [notes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1714721/chapters/3816733#chapter_5_endnotes).)

### Chapter Text

 

Chapter 5--

 

Looking back on it, Leonard felt he should have seen it coming.

Regulus VII was a jungle planet—all swamps, towering trees and trailing, moss-coated vines. Leonard hated it almost before he'd fully rematerialized.

They had been sent to look into some technical issues that a damn on one of the great rivers of the planet was experiencing. The ruler of the planet, a Monarch named Titus Raa Maximus had asked the Enterprise for technical aid and Kirk had agreed. The planet had once been a former Earth colony, one of the first established. But it had broken political ties with earth during the Eugenics Wars and had not joined the Federation afterward. They were reluctant trading partners with the Federation (Regulus VII was nothing if not rich in natural resources but had failed to develop much after breaking ties with earth) and Jim was hoping that, with this act of good will, they might be more open to trading in the future.

He took a single step and sunk up to his knee in stagnant, muddy water. “Great.”

Jim, who had materialized a few feet away on a mossy bank, gave him a single look a burst out laughing. “Oh watch your step there Bones.”

“Watch your lip there Jim.” He murmured under his breath so only the Captain could hear. Louder he said, “I don't even know why I'm on this god-cursed, soggy mess of a bitch of an away mission anyway.”

“I told you Bones. One of the princesses is sick or something. They want a Star Fleet doctor to look at her.”

“It's probably a head cold, at worst. And literally any one of my staff is far overqualified to do that.”

“They wanted the chief medical officer.”

“So slap a couple of stars on one of the fucking nurse's collars and  _tell_  them that they're the chief medical officer already. I've got too much goddamn paperwork to be tromping all over kingdom come after some girl's case of the sniffles, princess or not.”

“Lying on a diplomatic mission is not advisable Doctor. If the deception were discovered it could be interpreted as a grievous affront.”

“I don't recall asking you, pointy-ears.” He snapped at Spock (who he noticed had likewise landed on more solid ground than he had).

With some effort he pulled his foot from the vacuous mud at the bottom of the water and shook it a few times to free it of trailing leaves and excess water. It was nowhere near like presentable but he told himself he didn't give a rat's ass. If these idiots didn't want him trailing mud through their idiot palace then they shouldn't have built it in a goddamned swamp.

He looked up at the clouds. “It looks like it's going to storm. Of course it looks like it's going to storm,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What was that doctor?”

“Nothing Nurse Chapel.”

Perhaps that was contributing to his irritation as well. She had been on duty for away missions that shift and so was along with them. Even in the swamp he could smell the irritating stench of the damn soap and he swore he liked it less every time he smelled it. The fresh, clean smell of her beneath it was maddening.

The storm came more quickly than he'd expected too. It took him less than half an hour to find, treat and diagnose the princess (a cold just as he'd thought and a single hypospray to treat) but by that time water was already lashing the panes of her bedroom window. “Let me guess, the transporter is having trouble getting a lock on us,” he'd sighed when he'd next seen Jim.

“The electric field from the lightning is making it too dangerous, Scotty says. Raa Maximus has agreed to give us quarters for the night and a feast this evening.”

“Of course he has. He couldn't just send us our damn meals in our quarters and let us be like a civilized person. At least we left our dress uniforms up on the ship and can't possibly be expected to wear them.”

Jim smiled. “Oh no, Scotty says he's willing to risk those in the transporter. We can always replicate new ones after all. Raa Maximus is expecting us promptly at four standard time in the throne room.”

“They better not have forgotten how to make bourbon on this planet.”

By four the storm had blown by and Leonard went so far as to try to pressure Jim into letting him transport back to the ship by claiming that he had “paperwork” to do. Jim had laughed. “Bones when do you not have paperwork? No, we said we would stay and we will. It would be rude not to.”

He knew when she sat down at dinner that she'd showered before changing into her dress uniform. She was three seats away from him but the warm, light, honeyed scent of her made him relax slightly in his chair. Clearly she hadn't asked anyone to transport her down any of that Beta scent soap either. He'd forced himself not to let his head snap around when she'd come into the room but he gave her a polite smile and inclined his head in her direction.

He didn't much like the look of her dinner companions though. She had a female Beta to her right, but on the other was an Alpha, the son of an adviser to Raa Maximus. He was about her age with dark, jet hair, sharp blue eyes and a square jaw. Leonard wondered what it would be like to sock that jaw. It looked fairly solid but Leonard had a mean right hook and he was willing to test it out. Alphas that age were notoriously unpredictable and this one had a pungent, rutty smell that made Leonard's hands clench involuntarily.

Dinner was a tedious affair. He talked a little bit with the woman next to him, a Bonded Omega in her fifties with more jewelry than interesting things to say. He drank more than he should have and allowed himself to steal more glances at Christine that he'd intended. After dinner there was dancing but Leonard had had one drink too many and two drinks too few to have enthusiasm for it. He chatted with Jim for a while, complained mostly, and then, as quietly as possible, slipped out to go back to his chambers.

He was thinking about what he could have been doing instead of this on the Enterprise and so lost in thought was he that he didn't notice the first sounds of a faint scuffle when he first heard them. He wasn't sure what he was hearing first either. He picked up his pace to a jog as the sound grew louder.

“You fucking Omega bitch! I'll fuck the life out of you for that! I'll Bond you and fuck you until you die, whore!”

The shout rang down the hall and Leonard was already at a dead run. He was beginning to smell the conflict too and it made him nearly blind with rage. He could smell the Alpha rut hormones, enough to raise his hackles on their own, but beneath that was the smell of Christine's terror and that burned through his veins like wildfire across a prairie. It was a smell he would remember until the end of his days. Like gasoline and turpentine and shrieking burned metal it seemed to pain the inside of his mouth and throat. He wanted to wash the smell out with blood. He wanted to bite down on a throat and rip it out.

The adviser's son had her on the floor of the hallway on her knees. She was bent forward beneath him almost in a position for rut, though they were both clothed. He had her by the wrists, arms crossed in front of her and pulled back against him. His lower lip was torn almost away and the red smear of his blood on Christine's mouth explained that well enough. He could tell that she was trying to maneuver her weight backwards enough that she could roll the Alpha over her shoulder like they were taught to do in Star Fleet self defense. But the man had easily a hundred pounds on her and must have had some training as well. He'd angled her arms in such a away that she'd have to break them before she could get into any position to leverage his own weight against him. Her dress uniform was torn off one shoulder, ripped down over the torso almost to the waist and her eyes were wide in panic.

When he saw Leonard coming at him down the hall the Alpha stood, forcing Christine up too. Leonard half hoped the boy might try to reason with him but unfortunately he didn't seem so foolishly inclined. Instead he waited until he was in range and then pushed Christine at him. She stumbled forward and he caught her before she could trip but once she was on her feet he moved passed her, still advancing.

It had been a smart move to push Christine towards him. Not only had it got Leonard to lose his momentum catching her, now he had something to protect. He was limited to a frontal attack and couldn't move too much from side to side lest it expose Christine again.

For a moment the two of them sized each other up.

The other Alpha must not have liked what he saw. Either that or his lip was beginning to really hurt him. “I'm going to give you once chance to walk away from this,” the other Alpha hissed at him. “Take the girl and go and I won't stop you. The stupid cunt won't let her fuck you, though that's all she's good for.”

Leonard knew better than to reply. He tested the waters, prowling forward and back and left to right a little bit to see what the other man would do. Unfortunately he seemed to know what he was doing, matching Leonard step for step.

“Come on old man, what business is it of yours? She doesn't even belong to you. Her flesh is unclaimed.” He sniffed the air. “Though she's not long before another heat.”

He looked behind Leonard. “You should have come a week from now. You would have been begging for me to shove my cock into your...”

Leonard moved forward like a bolt of lightning, striking the man as hard as he could across the face with a vicious jab. The man saw it coming and dodged slightly, countering with a blow to Leonard's abdomen. And then they were grappling, both opponents raining blows down on each other in rapid succession. Though it felt like it lasted for an eternity Leonard knew it likely took less than a minute. Finally though he found his opening: the other Alpha leaned back to avoid his hook and he shoved the man back onto the hard marble floor.

Leonard landed on his chest, driving the air out of him and with his knees pinning one of the man's arms. It took him three brutal blows to the head before the Alpha lost the will to fight. His eyes glazed over and he stopped trying to hit Leonard with his free hand. His face was a bloody ruin, bruises and cuts swelling it into something almost unrecognizable.

And Leonard was still hitting him with everything that he had.

He became aware of something slowing his blows down. Christine had grabbed onto his arm and was hauling on him with everything she had, trying to stop or at least slow the savage beating. Sound seemed to rush back into the world. “Please... Leonard.... Stop... Please... You're going to kill him if you don't stop now!... Please... He's given up,” she sobbed

He snarled at her, whipping around and grabbing her by the upper arm.  _How dare she beg for this man's life? This man who had tried to claim what was his? This man who had tried to Mark what belonged to him? How dare she beg on his behalf?_

Instinctively she went to her knees on the floor, tilting her head to expose her unmarked neck. “Leonard please... just please don't kill him.”

Trembling, he got to his feet. He opened a com link to Captain Kirk. “McCoy to Kirk. Tell whichever one of those dignitaries had their son sit next to Nurse Chapel tonight to come pick him up from the hall outside our chambers and to make it quick if he likes the boy breathing. He needs medical attention right away but I won't treat him.”

Kirk's voice came tight but controlled back. “Understood. Clarify.”

“I found him trying to force himself on Nurse Chapel. I'm beaming both of us back to the Enterprise.”

“Understood.”

He tapped his com again. “McCoy to Enterprise transporter room. Lock onto Nurse Chapel and myself and beam directly to my quarters.”

“Understood McCoy.”

He expected her to stand when they materialized in his quarters. Either that or collapse into tears. Instead she remained perfectly as she was, locked in her submissive presentation position, staring up at him. Her chest was still heaving with panting gasps but suddenly everything seemed very quiet.

His fists were trembling. He intended to tell her to get up. He planned to let go of the arm he realized suddenly he was still holding. He meant to back up and give her some space. But she was kneeling in front of him so prettily, so easily and he couldn't seem to make himself move.

“Leonard please...” she whisper.

He could feel his heart beating so hard in his chest it was a wonder it didn't pound right out. His hands were beginning to tremble harder now and not from fear or rage. He was beginning to smell a new smell on her. Far from the acrid smell of her fear, it was a warm, familiar, fertile smell. She was getting wet.

He rubbed a hand over his face, fighting for control.  _Of course she's getting wet,_  he tried to reason with himself,  _she just watched me nearly beat another Alpha to death for trying to mount her. That's practically Omega porn for fuck's sake._

She spread her legs slightly, tilting her head up even more prettily. “Leonard... please.”

With a roar he was on her. With one hand he tore the uniform fully off her, tossing it aside, with the other he brought her lips to his in a savage kiss. The other Alpha's blood on her lips was like nectar. “Fuck... Christine... Fuck.”

He pushed her down onto the carpet, ripping her panties down to her ankles and thrust into her. The first push was like heaven. Jesus he'd forgotten how tight she was. He pounded into her with brutal strokes but it isn't enough. She was pushing back with everything she had too and the noise she was making... it was a broken little wail of pleasure, so high and keening it was almost a noise of pain.  _This one is mine! This one refused the other, fought the other but me she welcomes! She wants only me in her! She wants only my cubs, my seed, my knot!_ , he wanted to shout.

But instead it came out in an incoherent jumble.

His knot was beginning to swell and she was beginning to work her hips in a figure eight with each thrust to accommodate him. Each time he pulled out she writhed involuntarily and moaned, pushing back for more. It was making him wild. He didn't feel like Dr. Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise anymore. He wasn't even sure he could remember who that was.

When she presented for him, turning her head to show him her virgin neck he paused only to savor the moment. He snapped his hips into her brutally to remind her of his power. He bent down and took her flesh in his teeth. She was gasping so beautifully beneath him, her hips pushing back against his in a frantic, scrabbling bid to take his forceful thrusts.

“You are mine!” He snarled in her ear.

With a roar he bit down, thrusting in a final time.

Pleasure unlike anything flooded his senses. The hot warmth of her blood across his tongue seemed to plug into something in his brain light it up like a Christmas tree. The tension in her muscles, right down to her cunt, as she contracted in a mix of pleasure and pain was indescribable. They were both cumming but somehow even that wasn't the right word for it. When he'd rutted her before he'd felt he wanted more... needed more. This is the more he was looking for.

 _Fuck. Bond. Claim. Mine_!

The feel of her beneath him, around him, was incredible. She seemed to suck him in farther with her tightness. But this was beyond a physical pleasure. She was  _his_  now. She had offered him her submission, only him. She had accepted his Bite and now she would never be able to accept another.

“You belong to me. No other will take you from me. I will protect you. You are mine!”

“Yes Leonard... please... yes... oh Leonard...”

Somehow, once they were spent, he manged to get them both to bed. He was still worrying her neck, alternately sinking his teeth back in and licking it to clear it of blood and introduce his saliva, a natural antibiotic and coagulant, into the wound. Whenever he bit her she would come again, clenching down on his knot and making him spurt a little more. But other than that she was utterly collapsed, completely boneless beneath him.

She sobbed a little bit the second time he bit her but he paid her no mind. He knew he could wring more pleasure from her body and time and time again when he bit her she would come, sobbing and shaking. Her muscles were completely limp except for the one that clenched around him. She would be excruciatingly sore in the morning. But he wanted the wound as large and noticeable as possible.

It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, raised and red against her neck. He fell asleep looking at it, her small, slender body pressed fully against his chest.

 

 

### Notes:

> My little Friday gift to everyone who commented on the last chapter (thanks so much! It's such a push to write more!). Please let me know what you think of this one! What do you think is going to happen next? What do you think of Leonard bonding Christine? What do you think he'll think about it in the morning? What do you think Christine thinks about it? Please drop me a line! I swear comments are like writing fuel!

###  [Chapter 6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1714721/chapters/3876985): Chapter 6

### Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for [notes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1714721/chapters/3876985#chapter_6_endnotes).)

### Chapter Text

Chapter 6--

 

He woke the next morning still buried inside of her and his mouth still smeared with her blood. He winced at the sight of her wound, already scabbed over but still inflamed and fresh. God above, he hadn't taken it easier on her.

Gingerly he slid out of her and off the bed. He turned on the water for a proper shower and let it run over him for a long moment. He'd made it hot enough to scald but he didn't turn it down. Shame seemed to rain down on him as well. How could he have let this happen? She was just a fucking child, his subordinate. And he'd Bonded her. She had so much life ahead of her, so much potential. She didn't deserve to have to live it half chained to a used-up, crotchety old man like him.

In the moment he had no doubt that she had wanted him to Bite her but how would she feel when she had woken up and found the consequences of her actions?  _His_  actions, he reminded himself, he should have protected her better.

There might be no changing what he had done but he had to promise himself he would change what he could. In the next few months it would be hard, even impossible for the two of them to be apart. The new hormones of the bond would be fresh, implacable, almost irresistible. They might be able to be apart for hours at a time but separation for more than a day or two would be out of the question for at least a month.

After that though he knew that, if he could resist reopening the wound and restart the chemical cascade for both of them, the hormonal leash he would have on her would slacken slightly. It wasn't impossible that she could live independently from him, agonizing though that might be in the first few months of separation.  _That will be her choice_ , he swore,  _you owe her that much at least you old coward_.

He went back out to his bedroom to find that she was awake, sitting on the side of the bed and looking around at the unfamiliar quarters. She looked up at him with an unfathomable expression, some part wariness, some part apprehension and something else that he couldn't quite place. The apprehension left him breathless with guilt. Wordlessly he drew her to her feet and led her to the bathroom.

He sat her on the toilet while he went to get his bandaging kit. He cleaned and patted the area dry and then inspected the wound. Against her creamy, pale skin the Mark stood out like a ruby flower, the outline of his teeth so perfect he felt he could have made a cast of them. It went deep but his saliva was a natural healing agent for just this purpose. Already it was beginning to close. He put some antiseptic on it just to be sure.

Normally he could have closed it in an instant with a tricorder, leaving not so much as a scar. But of course he never would with her Mark. This close to the rush of hormones released the last time he bit her it would be unbearable provocation to see her skin unblemished. He knew he would never be able to resist reopening the wound and he wanted to spare her that.

He doubted she'd ever had so much as a scrape that hadn't been treated by a tricorder. His own parents had been of the opinion that pain taught a child their limits and he had a variety of scars to prove how infrequently his mother had deemed his injury significant enough to allow his doctor father to treat. But her own skin was flawless--not so much as an acne scar to be seen—or at least had been until last night.

As he daubed on gel a tear ran down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly but another followed, and the another. He wiped away the third with a thumb. “What are these about?”

“...I'm... I'm so sorry. I'm just... I didn't mean to. I swear I didn't mean to... to...”

He cupped her chin and turned her face until she reluctantly met his gaze. “Didn't mean to what? Tell me.”

“I didn't mean t-t-t-to do that. You know, to provoke you... God I'm so sorry!”

Guilt felt like a lead weight in his stomach and chest.

Somewhere, in some Star Fleet training on being a Commanding Officer he'd been told that these were exactly the kind of mistakes you weren't supposed to admit to a subordinate. It hadn't been said directly but it had been made clear to him that admitting that he felt remorse, that he was at fault, when it was a question of abuse of power charges was tantamount to career suicide. But he'd be dishonorably discharged before he'd let some Star Fleet trainer tell him what he was supposed to do in this situation.

“Oh honey...” He kissed her gently. “Oh honey, don't say that, don't even think that. That isn't what happened here. I'm your commanding officer and the Alpha. I should have known better than to Mark you. If anyone owes anyone an apology, I owe you one.”

“But... but... but... I offered. I... I... I... made... made... made you...” Her voice was getting high and hysterical, the tears coming even faster now. “Jesus... you... you... I almost made you kill someone!”

He put his hand on her neck in a gentling position and she stopped crying almost immediately. This close he could see her pupils dilate slightly as the pressure of his hand hand caused a release of dopamine and serotonin into her brain. She gasped a few more times, sucking in breath and sobs before her breathing regained some steady rhythm and she began to take unsteady, calming breaths.

“You didn't do anything wrong honey.”

“But I offered...” Her voice was shaky but calm.

“You have every right to offer. It's me who made the mistake. And I promise I will make it up to you.”

“And you... you had to fight him... you almost killed...”

“You prevented me from killing him. You did a very brave thing.”

She let out a little shaking gasp of a laugh. “God I'm so sorry...”

He stroked her neck until her shaking stopped. “You have nothing to be sorry for Christine. You did nothing wrong.”

She bit her lip, brow wrinkling but accepted it when he tilted her head to the side to finish smearing the antiseptic onto her wound.

“How does it look?”

 _Beautiful_. “You'll live I think.”

He gave her one of his T-shirts to wear, an old beat-up thing from the University of Mississippi Rowing Team. It was comically big on her but she was tall enough that it hung indecently short. He didn't think his boxers would fit her though and her own panties were a sopping mess so he left it at that.

“You like eggs and bacon for breakfast?” He asked.

“Yes please.”

“I'll cook for you sometime but today I think we'll just use the replicator.”

For a while they ate in silence, too hungry to bother with anything but food but finally she had had her fill and sat back form the plate. She tucked one foot up into her chair against her chest and wrapped her arms around it like a girl. She picked up her coffee and blew on it to cool it.

“I think you will need to move your belongings into these quarters.” He said finally, after considering his words for a long moment.

Her head jerked slightly as she focused on him, as if trying to discern something from his expression. Finally she said, “alright.”

“Sooner I think would be better than later. I'll clear out some space in my closet and dresser for you today but within the week will be fine. You will have to sleep here of course.”

“You aren't going to sickbay?”

“Neither of us should go anywhere today, unless I miss my guess. I'm going to go fill out some paperwork over this incident. I'll write up a document to let Star Fleet Command know of our new circumstances and another to the Captain. I would like it if I could give you another envelope to fill out your own account of the incident as well.”

“I don't think I need one. I don't want to... I don't... I....”

“I prefer that you fill one out.”

She hesitated. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

She bit her lip. “What are the rules?”

“The rules to what?”

“To me... you know, living here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well do you want me to make you breakfast every morning or be home by a certain time?”

He put down his coffee very slowly. “Where ever did you get an idea like that?”

“Well I'm you're Omega now aren't I? I have to take care of you.”

“I don't intend to shackle you to me like those Omegas in romance novels. You will need to defer to me, to defer to me as your Alpha that is, for the next few months. And I will have to take guardianship of you for that time. But I can promise you that I will never bite you again. In six months you could leave the Enterprise if you wanted to. You could go and be and do whatever it is you want. This is not the end of your life.”  
She swallowed. “You won't bite me again?”

“Not ever. I promise.”

She nodded. “Six months for the hormones from this bite to wear off?”

“Roughly. Could be a little more or less.”

For a long moment she stared out as his living room, almost unseeing. Her expression was completely unreadable. She brought her fingers up to the bite, fingering the edge tenderly. He imagined for a moment that she looked almost... longing, but for what?

“I know it's a long time Christine but I promise I will try to make it as comfortable for you as I can.”

She turned back to him and managed a smile, though the effort he could see it cost her felt like a hand in his chest, squeezing his heart. “Okay Leonard, I understand.”

He wished they weren't having this conversation when she didn't have any panties on. It made it difficult for him to think like her Doctor, like her CO, the CMO of the ship. And he couldn't imagine that it was doing anything to boost her ability to advocate for herself. But there's was no way around it.

“In the next few months you are going to have to make some changes, we both are really. Has anyone ever explained to you the... realities of Bonding?”

“I mean I understand the chemistry from nursing school of course. And there was a book of children's stories at my house that had some in them... but no, not particularly. I guess... I mean I guess I just assumed that it wouldn't ever happen, since I was on suppressants and all.”

He almost rolled his eyes. He'd suspected her parents were Betas and here was the proof. It was the classic Beta parent response to an Omega child: put her on suppressants, tell her not to make eyes at the Alphas at school and pretend like they never saw that first heat. Never mind explaining to her any of her biological urges or the side of her sexuality she might choose to explore later.

“Let's start with me. Alphas in a Bond are extraordinarily possessive and protective of the Omega. They expect to be included in all decisions that concern the Omega and even deferred to, perhaps against the Omega's wishes, particularly in matters they might considered safety related.” For a moment he struggled to couch it in terms of himself. He mastered himself though, she deserved the truth. “I know that sometimes I might appear unreasonable from time to time in the coming months. I might become demanding, possessive... I might insist that you do things the way that I want them to be done, even if you disagree.”

He swallowed. Her eyes were wide and he was struggling to keep his voice even, formal, disinterested. “And you will have to obey me Christine. A large part of you will  _want_  to obey me. Omegas in a Bond experience a documented urge to do whatever it is they feel will make their Alpha happy, and draw the two of them closer together. You're going to want to cook me dinner, do the housework, and please me... in whatever way you can. You're going to feel vulnerable, even scared, when I'm not around as well.”

She took a sip of her coffee and shuddered. “I... I mean... what do you think I should do?”

“For the next six months there is little we can do, according to the literature. Alphas and Omegas who are separated or in someway forced to act out of their dynamic once Bonded have been driven to suicide or worse in the first six months. I promise I will try to make this as easy for you as I can. But there will be patterns we can't avoid... You can't, for example, wear that Beta scent ever again around me. I won't permit it.”

She nodded. “Can I still work?”

“Yes of course. I don't... I won't allow this to affect your career. I will have to declare it to Star Fleet headquarters and to Jim as well. Your paperwork will need to be change to reflect your new state, as will mine of course. I will also have you officially transferred to the charge of some other Commanding Officer but I'll have the records sealed and that could all be explained away by a... more traditional romantic attachment. If you do not wish to disclose the nature of our relationship I will of course respect that.”

He wondered if she realized what a concession that was for him. It was going to be hard to let her return to work. If he was completely honest, though it was true he saw no appeal in keeping her locked up in some harem, there was some part of him that wanted to keep her trapped beneath him. Safe. She was safe when she was underneath him, in his bed. At least safe from everything that wasn't him. And the Alpha had never been the type for self-analysis. Even having her out of his site was going to be difficult. Going on away missions was bound to be torture.

If he'd insisted that she wear her Mark openly that would have provided him with some security that she would be seen by other Alphas as off the market. It would prevent them and even Betas from touching her without his permission. It would have let the world know that she was under his protection.

“But my mark... my scent... won't they know?”

“The uniform will cover the Mark. And you'll smell more like me now than you ever smelled like whatever Beta that soap was based off of. I doubt anyone will notice the change. Your old smell was aggressively indistinct. And if anyone notices they'll think it's from being around me so much, more likely than not.”

“So what... we say we're dating now? And break up in six months?”

“If that's what you prefer, yes.”

She bit her lip and then, finally, nodded.

“In a few days I'm scheduled to return to Earth for shore leave to attend Izzie's wedding... we won't be able to spend that many days apart though, not this soon.” He hesitated. “I can arrange for you to have the days off or I can send a subspace telling Izzie something came up and I won't be able to attend.”

She shook her head. “Oh no, I would feel horrible about that. You said you were meant to walk her down the isle right? Of course I will go with you.”

He nodded. “Thank you Christine... I appreciate that you're willing to do this for me.”

She looked puzzled. “Of course Leonard.”

After breakfast she went to shower and he opened a com line to Jim.

The Captain looked tired and melancholy. He had the faint bags under his eyes that he always did after a sleepless night and his mouth was drawn in a line. “Is Nurse Chapel still in your quarters?”

It was a delicate way of asking several questions at once. “Yes. Is the Alpha still alive?”

“Yeah. You mess up his face pretty good but he will likely pull through.”

“And diplomatic relations with the planet?”

“Those are still alive too. No one seems all too shocked about it in fact. They're more used to this sort of thing it would seem, since they haven't embraced suppressants like the Federation has. The boy's father is furious. But Raa Maximus seems more impressed than anything else. Apparently Federation Alphas have a reputation for being meek... he says it's good to see it's not entirely true.”

“Have the boy's chart sent to me. I'll take a look at it.” He might have offered to beam down but he knew the other Alpha would never accept him as a doctor, even if he could bring himself to treat him. “If I'm still on your medical staff, of course.”

Jim rubbed a hand over his face. “Of course you're still on medical staff Bones. Don't make a fucking habit of this though.”

“I think once was more than enough.”

Jim hesitated. “Are the two of you... okay?”

He considered his words carefully. “Neither of us require medical attention. I can't speak for Nurse Chapel but I could use a stiff drink.”

Jim laughed a little. “God above, me too. I'll send you the Alpha's medical chart as soon as possible. I think the gesture will be appreciated. Thanks Bones, I know that can't be an easy offer to make.”

“It's the minimum I can do Jim.” He hesitated for a moment. “You know you'll have to formally reprimand me.”

The Captain bit his lip. “Bones... you were provoked. You were protecting another member of the crew, one you have a documented personal relationship with. I don't think it's really necessary for me to...”

“I'm going to ask Commander Spock to interview both of us and open an investigation.”

“Bones no one will think...I mean it's not possible to... I mean I know Nurse Chapel is your subordinate but there are no specific...”

“Jim your Chief Medical Officer almost beat someone to death on a diplomatic mission last night. I Bonded one of my subordinates, a girl fifteen years my junior. Someone at Command is going to have some questions both of us will need to answer and it's well known that we're friends Jim. You can't brush this off. Lieutenant Spock can be trusted to be impartial but fair, you cannot.”

Jim bit his lip. “It's your right I suppose. Though I don't see what purpose it will serve.”

 _Penance_ , he thought,  _plain and simple_. He'd never had much time for penance. He'd always felt that it was a weak impulse, reserved for people who preferred to suffer for their problems rather than fix them. But here was a problem without a solution. He would never be able to unmake the Bond. Like it or not, she was his forever.

The thought of that made him hard, despite of himself. The idea that he would be the first and last to ever knot her was primally satisfying. No one else would ever stretch and fill her like he had. And the undeniable fact that she had chosen him for that. The Omega part of her, that squirming, panting, heavenly thing, craved the Alpha in him. Christine Chapel might be too bright, too young and too optimistic for an old, sarcastic bastard like him. But the part of her nature that was separate from that, a more raw and visceral side of her, wanted him and only him to fuck and dominate her.

 

 

 

The investigation by Spock took two days after which the Vulcan science officer produced an enormous sealed file that included the transcripts of the interviews he'd collected from them, as well as Jim. The single page summary on the front recommended that he be warned for “the use of excessive force against a non-member of the federation in the execution of his duty.” It was a much lighter reprimand then he had expected. Less than he might have got for a bar fight on shore leave.

Almost no mention was made of his Bonding Christine.

He'd asked Spock about the absence but the half-Vulcan had only replied, “as a Star Fleet investigator my purview extended only to ascertaining that the act was consensual on both sides. Any further investigation would have been inappropriate.”

“What did you ask her about it?”

“The interview was conducted as part of a private, sealed investigation. I cannot reveal to you either the questions I asked or the answers I received.”

He ground his teeth together. Knowing that the Vulcan was of course right did not lessen his desire to punch him square in the jaw. “I expected better from you Spock.”

“I assure you Dr. McCoy, my investigation was thorough.”

### Notes:

> Soooooo.... the aftermath. What did you think? Did Bones and Christine live up to your expectations? What do you think will happen next? What do you think Christine thinks of all of this? Please drop me a line and let me know! I love, love, love to hear from you!

###  [Chapter 7](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1714721/chapters/3960508): Chapter 7

### Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for [notes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1714721#chapter_7_endnotes).)

### Chapter Text

Chapter 7--

 

 

“Not that shirt.”

Her brow furrowed. “You don't like it?”

“Not today.”

Her hands moved to another one with a high collar but he shook his head and pointed instead to one with a low, scooped neck. If it hadn't been specifically designed to display her Bond mark, it did the job well enough.

She swallowed and tears welled in her eyes. “Leonard I don't...”

He carded his fingers through his hair, the other hand clenching and unclenching. “Don't make me insist honey.”

“Leonard please...”

Feeling like the worst kind of bastard Bones pushed her down to the floor so she knelt in front of him. Out of habit and biology she tilted her head into the presentation pattern he had taught her. It was a position he knew would release all those Omega hormones she was primed up to produce—a cocktail of chemicals straight to her brain, all telling her to do what he said. After a long moment he pulled her to her feet and with a hard swallow she went to put on her bra and the scoop-necked shirt.

She came back to him once it was on and he wiped away the tears and kissed her deeply and gently. “There is my good, sweet girl.”

“They're all going to know,” she whispered against his shirt.

 _They were going to know anyway_  , he thought. Carol and Vicky were Alphas. They'd smell the Bond on her before she walked through the door. Like him they had a sharper than average sense of smell, even for Alphas, and unlike the crew of the Enterprise they were not expecting to smell him on her. Covering it up would do nothing but make them think she was ashamed of it, raising more questions instead of fewer.

Was that the real reason though? It had been excruciating for him to allow her to even leave his quarters with her Bond concealed. His hormone levels were sky high, even nearly a week later and her presence was like a throbbing wound in his consciousness. He was aware of her at all times. How her body was in relation to his, to other Alphas, to other Betas was something he couldn't stop himself from calculating and recalculating. The effort not to reach for her continuously was exhausting.

They packed in silence and he shouldered both their duffels. She wouldn't look at him as they boarded a transport and made their way to the transporter pad. “Ready?” The technician asked.

“Ready.” He answered for both.

They rematerialized facing a painting of an frontier-era farmhouse fading into the forest and the words 'WELCOME TO MISSISSIPPI!' scrawled over it in letters made to look like a lasso. “Come on down and welcome to Mississippi.” The new technician greeted them.

They walked down the steps and out through the gates, through security and into an open-air waiting room. “Len! Len!” A young woman was barreling down the length of the terminal towards them. With a little hopping skip of a jump she threw herself into his arms, almost knocking him over and he swung her around once before letting her down.

“Oh my lord you get uglier every time I see you! I'm so excited you're finally here! Took you long enough!” She shot a glance at Christine. “Who's the looker? My God, you said you were bringing a guest, you never said you were bringing a damn beauty queen. Yeesh, girl is going to start a brawl at Two Rails if she don't mind where she swings those hips! But come along quickly now. Tom is probably double parked and getting angrier with me by the second. Why me you ask? Lord only knows. I guess he thinks I'm in control of the damn transporters!” She laughed at her own joke and stuck out her hand to Christine. “Hi there I'm Vicky, Len's sister.”

“Christine Chapel.”

“And how exactly did Leonard manage to swindle a pretty, Yankee girl like you into coming to join us in these godforsaken Mississippi backwaters Christi...” She trailed off her question though. She'd come around to Christine's other side to shake her hand and as she tried to cast a sly glance at her and for the first time the Bite on Christine's neck. Her eyebrows shot up! “Oh shit! Leonard is that what I think it is?”

“Well it ain't face paint if that what you're asking.

Vicky laughed a little nervously. “Fuck. Mom is going to have a stroke when she sees this.” She threw her head back and cackled at that. “I can't wait!”

“Oh Vick, just shut up will you. You're making Christine nervous.”

She turned to Christine. “Oh don't worry about that. She's gonna like you just fine. She liked Helen after all and you seem like you can't possibly be one hundredth the cunt she was. But she might take a swing at Leonard when she sees that.” She pointed at Christine's Bond Mark. “How old are you anyway?”

“I'm twenty-three.”

Vicky's face split in a wide grin. “Oh hell yeah! Leonard you dirty old bastard! This weekend just got a whole fuck of a lot more interesting. And to think just yesterday I was praying for one of those idiot sisters of ours to announce another goddamn baby just so your mom would stop giving me those damn furtive-yet-hopeful looks already.”

“Oh just tell mom to fuck off about that already.”

“You tell mom to fuck off about that for all the good it will do any of us! You know she's got too much sense to listen to anyone she shares this much DNA with.”

“Well if she won't listen to you she sure as shit won't listen to me. You were always far and away her favorite.”

“Oh please! Everyone knows that in Monica McCoy's bookkeeping the winingest daughter is the pregnantest daughter and I'm still a complete goose egg on that front. I keep telling your damn brother-in-law to just go ahead and shove a baby right on up there but I think he's got wax in his ears or something. Ahhhh Tom's an idiot.”

It was often hard for Alpha-Alpha couples to conceive. The hormone balance was hard to get right for an egg to take and many tried for years before they finally had a child. It was one of a number of reasons they were so rare.

“Anyway but it's great to have you here you Christine. Particularly if you're going to be such a darling element of chaos this weekend. Keep the surprises rolling I say, let's burn this mother down!”

Up ahead in the line of cars a door opened and a tall, blond man got out of the driver's side. “What the fuck Vicky! What did you go in there to rebuild the goddamn transporter pad?”

“Yeah Tom, it was a good thing I was there too or they never would have gotten through. All those mechanics standing around scratching their heads and they were like, “you, hey you! Girl over there standing around with her thumb up her butt, wanna take a crack at this?” and I was like “oh hell I ain't got nothing better to do.” So I climbed on down in there and took one swing at the machine with a hammer and whatyaknow, presto! The damn thing turns on again. I was a goddamn hero Tom. You wanna kiss your wife and congratulate her?”

But Tom wasn't paying attention to her. In the hustle and bustle of the terminal Vicky hadn't been able to pick out Christine's scent right away. But out on the tarmac there were far fewer people and Tom has zeroed in on her with a laser precision. “Who is that?”

Leonard stepped subtly between them. “Christine Chapel,” he answered for her.

Tom took a long look at the two of them then turned his attention to Leonard. He shook his brother-in-law warmly by the hand. “Welcome home Len! Jesus it's good to see you! God you don't know how it gets around here when I'm the only man in sight.”

He threw their duffel into the back of the truck and Tom turned it on. The big, turbo engine roared to life beneath them and they were back off down familiar country roads. Vicky talked almost non-stop as they drove, pausing her constant stream of local news (who was pregnant, who was newly married, who had a baby and who's cow had gotten eaten by coyotes) only to harshly critique Tom's driving.

Though the backseat was spacious enough for the two of them Christine pressed against him, almost flush under his arm. He could tell that she was feeling uncertain, intimidated by Vicky and Tom and being in a new place. He didn't like the idea that he was taking advantage of her fear to break her bad mood but there was no doubt that she was becoming more pliable. She'd refused to look at him since he'd insisted that she wear the shirt. But now she slid her arms around his waist and pressed a soft, appeasing kiss to his neck, breathing his scent in deeply. He put his hand on her thigh, enjoying the feel of her smooth, warm flesh under his thumb as he caressed her.

“You're a good girl, honey.” He told her under the stream of patter from the front seat.

She looked up at him sharply, almost as if she suspected him of making fun of her. But when she saw that he was serious she gave him a small smile. “You're not so bad yourself.”

“I could do better.”

“So could we all.”

Soon enough they'd arrived though at Leonard's childhood home. Christine raised her eyebrows at him as they pulled into the long driveway lined with sugar maples and she caught her first sight of the Blue House, as the family called it. It was an enormous plantation-style mansion, complete with a stable, a wrap-around porch, french-style balconies and an enormous weeping willow down by the back pond with a swing beneath. In living memory it had never been Blue but it must have been once to get the name. For all of Leonard's life it had been painted a creamy white with green shutters and trimming.

“What were you expecting? A one room cabin?”

“I would have guessed that before this,” she admitted.

Leonard didn't like to talk about the fact that his family came from money. He was sure Christine had never wanted for anything but he doubted that she was as wealthy as he was. If he'd wanted to he would never have had to work a day in his life, and for some reason that made him feel oddly ashamed. He had gone out and made something of himself, become a Doctor, joined Star Fleet, saw combat even, but he'd never  _needed_  to. He could have lived a perfectly comfortable life without lifting a finger, or leaving Mississippi.

A girl who had been playing along the driveway was running up to greet them. “Uncle Len!” She jumped and he caught her, twirling her around before tossing her into the air and catching her again.

He brought her to his hip and grinned. “Susana I swear you get prettier every time I see you. Do you think someday I could be as pretty as you?”

She considered for a moment and then shook her head. “Probably not.”

He laughed. “Come here and give me a kiss anyway.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Did you bring me a present Uncle Len?”

“Might have. Have you been good enough to deserve one?”

She shrugged and started to answer when the screen door banged open and out came three boys of about seven to nine and a girl of about five. Leonard was swarmed. The boys wanted to know if he'd killed anyone. The girl wanted to know if he'd met any more princesses. He put Susana on his shoulders and waded through. “Come on you guys, time for me to go see your grandmother.”

He reached back and offered Christine his hand which she took, allowing him to lead her up the stairs and into the house. “Who is that Uncle Len?” Susana asked.

“This is Christine, she's a friend of mine.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Susana's look was appraising.

“Yes she is.”

“Does that mean that you'll never be married to Aunt Helen again?”

“There are a lot of reasons that I'll never be married to Aunt Helen again. Christine has got nothing to do with that though.”

He had to duck down low to keep Susana from banging her head as he went through the last door to the kitchen, where he knew he would find his mother. It smelled like peach pie and dumplings and home when he stepped through.

“Is that my only son standing so tall in my doorway?”

“Hello ma.” He came and kissed her on the cheek.

Monica McCoy was tall and willowy, only an inch or two shorter than her son. She had always been beautiful—fine, balanced features and the expressive, warm eyes that he had inherited—and none of that had diminished as she aged. She kissed Leonard back and gave him an appraising look. “You look better than usual, though tired.” She glanced at Christine. “Is this the friend you told us you were bringing?”

“Yes. Mom, meet Christine Chapel. Christine, this is my mother, Monica McCoy.”

Christine came forward with a flustered smile. “It's lovely to meet you Ms. McCoy. Thank you for inviting me into your lovely home.”

Monica was staring at Christine's Mark however and she didn't look as though she'd heard a word the girl had said. Susana noticed it for the first time too. “Uncle Len, what happened to Christine's neck? Did she hurt herself?”

It was Monica who answered though. “Never you mind child. Kids, go run along and play outside. You've been cooped up here all day.”

Len let her down and Susana dashed off to do as she was told, hot on the trail of the others. Monica came forward and wiped her fingers on her apron. She looked to Leonard for a nod of approval before she took Christine's chin in her fingers and tilted her head to the side to inspect the mark. “I see,” she said finally. “I guess we won't be needing the guest bedroom after all.” To Christine she added gently. “Welcome to the Blue House Christine, you can call me Monica if you would like.”

“I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance Monica.”

“Leonard why don't you go show Christine where you'll be spending the weekend and get her settled in. Lunch will be ready shortly and the girls are setting up the picnic table on the lawn. Do you like southern food Christine?”

“Oh yes Ms... I mean Monica.”

“Well that's fine then.”

He showed her upstairs to his old bedroom, an enormous room that, over the years had been reclaimed by his mothers tastes. There were still remnants of the teenage Leonard, a poster for a punk band in the closet and the name of an old girlfriend carved into the wood of the windowsill, but for the most part it looked like something right out of Country Homes.

“Somehow this wasn't what I was expecting.”

“Hmmm? Oh yeah, ma redecorated a bit.”

“No I mean this... this whole thing: You, home.”

“What did you expect?”

“I'm not sure that's the right question. It's more what I didn't expect that surprised me.”

“Fine, I'll bite. What didn't you expect?”

“Vicky. The children. Your mother. How you interact with them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well...I mean...I shouldn't have said anything... I just... I guess I didn't know that was possible is all.” She stood, having finished her task, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. “I shouldn't have said anything. I just feel so ignorant when it comes to all this stuff, with secondary gender and all.”

“Come here.”

She came and stood by the bed. He caught her hand and jerked her down beside him, rolling her under him in a single, fluid motion. She gasped, squealed in surprise but allowed him to loom over her. He brushed the hair from her face and gazed down at her. “You can ask me anything you like.”

She cupped his cheek with her hand, running her fingers over his stubble almost fondly. The weight of his body on hers was making her pupils dilate. She wasn't shaking anymore either from the stress of the new place and the new faces. She drew her fingers languidly over his lips. “Leonard, where is your father?”

“He died. About ten years ago.”

“I didn't think it was possible for a Bonded Omega like your mother to outlive her Alpha... without suppressants I mean. ”

“Sometimes it isn't. It's easier with children, particularly with my mother being as devoted to us as she is. I don't think it occurred to any of us that she would follow him, much as she loved him, and leave us.” He hesitated, knowing he was on dangerous territory. “I think he was more in love with her than she was with him. She loved him to be sure but she never doted on him in the way he always did with her. He was her Alpha but she was his universe.”

Her brow winkled. “I thought that Alphas were supposed to be the distant ones, and Omegas the more besotted ones.”

“It isn't as simple as that. In heat there is no question who is in the dominant role. Outside of that though, it is less clear. Even between Alphas and Omegas there is a human component that has to be resolved. There is always someone who is more in love in any relationship or more dependent on the other in some way. It isn't necessarily the Alpha.”

She thought about that for a moment—thought about them, he could tell. “But normally it is?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea honey. I really don't.”

For some reason he felt like something strange and wriggling was trying to twist up in his chest just then, like a worm burrowing into his organs and viscera, as he lay looking down on her upturned face. It was an unpleasant if not unwelcome feeling. He disliked it and yet... and yet he couldn't quite bring himself to wish it would stop. The strangling, constricting feeling in his chest felt like it had been there all along and he had only just noticed it.

He wanted to press his face into her Mark and scent her, bite her again and then perhaps slump against her chest in exhaustion. It wasn't a specifically sexual feeling. He wasn't imaging rut, but he wanted the comfort of her blood across his tongue and a fresh wound. He felt tired more than anything else. If he bit her she would let him fall asleep like this, head pillowed on her breast. She frowned up at him. “Leonard, are you alright?”

He rolled off of her so they were side-by-side on their backs, staring up at the like ceiling like cliched star-gazing lovers. “Just suddenly a little sleepy. Maybe I could use a nap.” His arm was still beneath her head and with that hand he stroked her hair gently, “that explains what you found strange about my mother. What about Vicky and the kids?”

“Just the way you are with them I suppose.”

“What do you mean.”

“It's hard to explain. You're just so free... so caring. I don't often see you like that, not on the Enterprise. I know that as CMO you have to act a certain way, I really do. It's just interesting to see you in moments where you're so... unguarded.” She blushed deeply but persisted nonetheless. “It's nice... It's just not maybe a side I see a lot of in you, in the sickbay.”

“As the CMO I have to...”

“I know, I know, you can't coddle us. It wasn't a critique, only an observation.”

“Do I need to apologize for all the times I shouted at you Christine?”

She turned, folding her hands under her cheek to look at him. “No Leonard, of course not.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye but the bright, clear blue eyes seemed open and sincere. “Thank you again for coming to the wedding. I know it wasn't really your choice but...”

She shook her head. “No, it was my choice. You offered to stay aboard the Enterprise, I told you I would come anyway.”

_Your newly-minted Alpha was asking you for a favor honey, what did I think you would say?_

She seemed to know what he was thinking. A slight frown touched her lips. “I would have... that is to say, I didn't feel like...” She began but trailed off when a knock sounded on the door.

“Uhg love birds. Stop doing whatever gross Alpha-Omega shit you're doing in there and come down to lunch. Everyone's waiting for you and they definitely think you're fucking.” Vicky's voice informed them through the door. “I think mom's head is going to explode if she tries any harder not to visualize it.”

Leonard laughed and stood to open the door. “You've always thought that everyone else has your same puerile sensibilities but it just isn't true. You're imagining things.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come on down to lunch Christine! Mom's corn bread is the best you'll ever have.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first new text. Please please please leave me a comment to let me know what you think!
> 
> FAIR WARNING: This story is about to take a turn into more intense bondage territory! Hopefully you find it hot!

Chapter 8--

 

 

 

 

 

He went out onto the deck after breakfast the next morning Not to watch her, he promised himself, although it did happen to be a rather nice vantage point on the pasture, where Vicky was taking her for a pony ride (Leonard had insisted that Vicky take out the old, sweet-tempered mare they used to teach the children with). He heard the porch screen bang shut behind him and a moment later his mother joined him on the deck. She'd brought two large mugs of steaming coffee.

She gave him one and took a cautious sip of the other. “She's real young for you Len.”

“I know.”

“And far too pretty too.”

“I know that too.”

“People say there's no accounting for taste but even that don't stretch far enough to explain why she looks at you the way she does..”

He sighed and took a sip of his coffee. He was content enough to let Vicky and the girls think she was his Bond mate for the weekend. He didn't need to take any more attention away from Izzie. But he couldn't bring himself to lie to his mother. “She don't look at me no particular way. It was an accident that we Bonded.”

His mother looked at him sharply. “What in the name of blazes do you mean by an accident?”

He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “She got herself into a jam on an away mission...”

“Don't you blame this on her Leonard McCoy!”

“I ain't blaming her! It was my damn fault, of course it was! But she got herself... she got herself stuck with another Alpha hassling her on this planet. Weren't her fault but it just happened. And that got my blood up enough that when she offered a Bond, I don't know ma... I wasn't thinking.”

He couldn't remember the last time he had blushed and he fought the urge to turn his head away to hide it. His mother was giving him a long, appraising look. “Had you been seeing her for very long before hand?”

“Naw, only once before really. Look, I know I haven't exactly done right by her but I'm trying to do the best I can for her now. I'm going to protect her from this... as much as I can. In six months I'm going to let her go, as much as I can. Wouldn't be fair to keep her with me.”

“I see.” His mother paused. “But you wish you could keep her.”

It hadn't really been a quesiton. “I wish for a whole lot of things.”

“Don't sass me boy, answer the question.”

He took a long drink of bourbon. “Yes.”

“You can't be thinking like that. Not if you got her into the mess on accident. I know she's got nice legs and a pretty face and you always had a terrible weakness for blond hair...”

“It ain't her hair.”

“And she's an Omega too. I know it's easy to get all romantic when a girl goes into heat but that don't make it worth more than a lick of spit. And she's young and sweet and weren't raised around a lot of Alphas neither. She ain't got no kind of defense for a predator like you Len, you can tell just looking at her. She'd let you right in as far as you wanna go. That kind of vulnerability can feel like...something that it ain't.”

He knew that well enough. Helen had been like that. Her willingness to yield to him, at least in certain aspects, had been a fascination for him.

“It ain't her vulnerability either.” At her incredulous look he'd added. “I ain't saying I don't like that about her. I'm just saying it ain't why I want her around.”

“Why do you want her around then?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “It's just her I guess. She's smart and funny. I like the way she laughs and when she's around I feel a little calmer, a little better. She feels like home. I know its just the hormones talking but that don't make it feel less real.”

“Well you seem to have this wolf pretty much by the ears don't ya Len?”

“I reckon I might.”

“And you're going to let her go when the Bond fades a bit?”

“Wouldn't be right not to.”

“Don't get her pregnant Leonard or I swear to God I'll ring your neck. I never get to see Joanna hardly at all. You give me another grandbaby that lives with his mother and I'll throttle you.”

“I won't get her pregnant, I promise.”

When dusk fell the girls came back from the pasture.

“We're taking Christine down to the Hartfields! Virginia Hartfield is having her Debutante ball this afternoon!” Vicky told him as she bounded up the steps.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Oh right, I forgot.” She did a little mock curtsey of supplication. “Leonard, may we pretty please with honey and rose petals on top take Christine down to the Hartfield's for the Debutante ball?”

He looked at Christine. “Do you want to go?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! I've never seen one before. We don't really do them in Maryland.”

“Okay. We'll take the California T then.”

“The what?”

But Vicky was already pulling her up the stairs. “Come on! Come on Christine! Let's go already! We're burning daylight!”

He changed into his dress uniform and then waited downstairs while the girls went and dressed. Christine came down first, freshly showered and in a dress she'd clearly borrowed from Vicky. It was in the modified Southern-Belle style that would be nearly the uniform at the Debutante Ball, though not as ridiculous as some he was sure to see today. It had a modest hoop skirt, large enough to show but not enough to be truly a burden, under sea-foam green skirt without flounces of lace or embellishment with gold buttons up the front and a little gold pipping as well. Her hair was down, just like he liked, in long, loose curls. He knew it must have been Vicky's as it favored her preferred neckline, a deep, plunging neckline but supported under a high collar that hid her Mark. His fists clenched by his side and he almost told her to go back upstairs and change. He didn't want her going outwith her Mark covered. She seemed to know what he was thinking because she waited nervously, hesitating, before coming down off the last step.

He forced himself to smile and stood. She came in and he took her hand, kissing it. “You look beautiful.”

“I feel a little ridiculous to be honest. Are you sure Vicky isn't playing a joke on me? Other people will be wearing this too right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Honey you have no idea where you are. That skirt is practically an elegant understatement where we're going.”

She giggled. “Do you think me terribly predictable for being excited? I've never been to a ball before.”

He came to stand at the bottom of the steps and offered her a hand. “No, I don't think you're terribly predictable. I only wish there was a handsome prince to take you Cinderella.”  
“I'm taking these stairs a little slowly, I'm not sure I trust myself in this skirt.”

She descended gingerly and took his hand. In one smooth movement he jerked her hand forward, causing her to squeak delightfully as she fell into his arms off the last step. In one smooth move he rolled her to the side into an exaggerated dip, capturing those warm, yielding lips with his own. Her muscles, tense from surprise, relaxed immediately and she opened her mouth to let him taste her, God bless her. He kissed her languidly for a moment and then released her to look down at her for a moment.

“You are a handsome enough prince for me.”

That should have put a smile on his face but all he could really think was, _if this were a play she would still be in the second act, more likely to meet the villain than the hero_. But the smell of her and the languid kiss put him in a good mood despite himself.

His mother was waiting for them on the pooch with a holocamera.

“Oh hell ma, no photos.” He protested

“Never mind him Christine, come stand at the end of the pooch you two and give me a big smile.” She commanded, fixing the brocade on his dress uniform. Once the photos were taken and Christine was sufficiently mortified by his mother telling her how fetching she looked she turned, inevitably, to a lecture. “Don't have too good of a time today. The wedding is tomorrow and you'll want to be fresh. Remind your sister of the same if you would be so good.”

He nodded. “I will.” He offered Christine his hand.

“Shouldn't we wait for Vicky and the others?”

“They'll catch us up.”

He held out one of his old leather jackets and she frowned. “It's really quite warm outside.” But she shrugged it on nonetheless.

He'd brought it out from the garage while she was showering. She gaped at it. “Does that thing run on ethanol?”

“Close. Gasoline.”

She laughed. “Where do you even find it?”

“There are still some places that produce it in laboratories.”

“Is it safe?”

He frowned. “A hell of a lot safer than those rockets and transporters you always seem so eager to climb into at every opportunity.” He went and threw a leg over it, maneuvering it so it fell between his legs. “This is a Ferrari California T from 2020. Hop in.” He opened the passenger side door.

“Are you sure it's quite safe?”

 _As if I would ever risk you, honey_.

“I've been driving this thing since before you were born Christine and I've never wrecked it yet.” He nodded to her leather jacket. “But if that isn't enough of a guarantee there are sensors in there that will detect a crash and throw up a force field to protect you.”

She smiled, coming down the steps. “You've been driving this since you were fifteen?”

He turned the key and let the engine roar to life. “Thirteen”

“Is it supposed to be so loud?”

“Wait until it gets out of first gear.”

He took them down the driveway slowly in deference to the uneven terrain but once they hit the pavement he opened it up and shifted into high gear. Christine instinctively grabbed the leather seats with both hands she was laughing uproariously. “This is incredible!” She shouted over the roar of the wind. “I can't believe they used to make things that go this fast run on carbon fuels. It's seems so dangerous!”

For a moment it was possible to forget everything. He felt like he was back in high school again: a beautiful women behind him and the open road ahead of him. It felt uncomplicated. He could smell her, intermingled with himself and the leather seats and he wanted the ride to go on forever. He wished she'd had a shorter skirt on, something he could slide his hand up underneath to the warm, inviting heaven between her thighs. Instead he contented himself with taking her hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips for a small kiss. He took the longest possible route, out along a country road that stretched passed the local lake. But soon enough he pulled onto another long, tree-lined driveway and they wound their way up to another grand old house, all decorated in streamers and white silk and with the people and music spilling out onto the lawn.

He parked the California T between two transports and they got out. “That was fun!” She said with a loopy grin. “Terrifying but fun. Can we drive it again sometime?”

He couldn't resist. He took her by the waist and pulled her against him, leaning down to kiss her. Her hands with around his neck and her mouth yielded to his exquisitely. She tasted sweet as ever and he allowed himself the pleasure of bringing the other hand up to cup her cheek. He wanted to run his fingers over the Mark but prevented himself.

He stepped back finally though, ashamed of himself. He didn't need to be doing these kinds of romantic things with her, not when it wouldn't last. Sex was one thing, being her Alpha was one thing, but sun-drenched kisses were somehow even more dangerous. He put his hand on her waist and led her up the steps.

The others must have taken a more direct route than they had because they were already at the top of the steps, being ushered through the great doors. “Oh Jesus, I can't believe you really made her take the California T,” Vicky sighed. “I thought you were joking!”

“I didn't mind,” Christine piped up

“Oh no, Christine don't encourage him! However much cash he slipped you to say that I swear I'll double it... Christine.”

But Christine was looking around already and her mouth had dropped slightly open.

The inside of the house was like another world. All the normal trappings of life in the house had been cleared out to make room for the party. The overall appearance was one of gold and white lace, like they'd been transported back to an era of candles, petticoats and starched collars. Amuse bouche were laid out in an elaborate presentation on a long table between ice statues and a genuine chandelier hung over it all. Men suits and women in elegant dresses circulated around, laughing and chatting. The air of easy opulence and exuberant gaiety was palpable. Whatever Christine had imagined she was going to, he could tell by the look on her face this was not it. Leonard already wanted to leave.

He'd been to a hundred of these if he'd been to one, or at least it felt like it. He'd met Helen at a party very similar to this. That was the point of course-- to set up young Alphas and Omegas from a certain sort of class to run into each other.

He put his hand on the small of Christine's back to lead her toward the table. “Come on honey, I need a drink.”

He found them two glasses of champagne and handed her one. She smiled as she accepted it. “I shall have to thank your mother when we get home. I would have felt very much under-dressed if she hadn't lent me this jewelry.”

Vicky found them again a moment later. “Come, come Christine. There is a very famous painting upstairs. It's shit really—two vapid maidens lying around on their fat asses on a field—but you must see it to say you have. Besides, it will give you something to talk about at the party with people.”

She shot him a look and he smiled back, waving her off.

He went outside and found David, an old friend from high school, chatting with a group of Alphas. “Leonard McCoy! What have you been up to? You look great buddy!”

“Not too much. Thanks David.”

“Not too much? Don't do that to us Len! You gotta have at least one interesting story! Tell us about all that space-princess pussy you've been getting!”

He told them instead about taking cover in a ditch that turned out to infested with stinging insects that looked like lurid red cockroaches and having to run past the enemy fire lines to get away from them. It had been a terrifying moment of course but it got a laugh and afterward the focus of the conversation was allowed to settle again on earthly ground. They talked about politics—galactic and global—about someone's new plasma shotgun and the hunting season. Someone offered around cigars and Leonard took one. Shore leave was always strange.

There was some pleasure in the smell of the cigar and the burn of it in his lungs. It felt right in the warm night air. Someone had brought a flask of some good bourbon as well, which he was enjoying as well. But it all felt like something he was dreaming—inconsequential and soon forgotten when he woke up.

The cigar was just dying out when Vicky and Christine reappeared from inside. “Come on Len we have to go greet Mrs. Hartfield.”

Back in the party they made their way across the floor to where the matron of the party was stationed. Leonard took Christine by the waist again, his hand going instinctively to the small of her back to guide her through the party.

Charlotte Hartfield was a bottle-blond in her mid fifties. She had a well-maintained figure and she was extraordinarily well-preserved. Bonded Omegas were known to have high hormones levels much longer than their Beta counterparts and despite her age her skin was still smooth and practically unwrinkled. She was dressed in a gray satin dress with a wide collar to show off her Bond mark, though it was only just visible under loops of enormous pearls.

She smiled widely when she saw Leonard and held out her hands to him as he approached. “Leonard McCoy you charming man! What a pleasure it is to see you after so long!”

He kissed the back of her hand through her gloves. “Thank you for including me in the invitation Mrs. Hartfield. You are kind to remember me.”

“One does try to be thoughtful Dr. McCoy. You must not mistake me entirely unselfish though... not with such a lovely Omega daughter still to be Bonded...”

Christine had been standing slightly behind him. He'd come forward to greet Mrs. Hartfield and she had waited behind for her own turn to be introduced. At that though she stepped forward, looping her arm around his waist and picking up his arm and then ducking under it in a cute, lithe little maneuver that left his arm around her shoulders. “Leonard,” she practically purred, “won't you please introduce me to our host.”

He fought the urge to blink at her. Close as he was the smell of her was strong and she was suddenly putting out quite a high level of hormones. He'd never heard her use that voice before either. As a nurse her voice had the characteristic professional crispness to it that he was sure they spent a whole semester on in nursing school, making sure it was just as neat and careful as a tightly tucked bed sheet. In the bedroom she made a range of vocalizations that made his cock hard just thinking about. And in conversation she was more like to be pert than breathy. Now she sounded like an Omega from a movie: breathy and overtly sexual as she gazed up at him.

“Mrs. Hartfield may I introduce you to my Omega, Nurse Christine Chapel?”

The look of displeasure on the older Omega's face was not concealed. She held out a hand to Christine but her lips pursed. “What a pleasure to meet you Miss Chapel. Leonard always did have the most interesting taste in girlfriends.”

Christine's look in return was no less hostile. “I'm not his girlfriend. I am his Bonded Omega.”

The older woman's gaze flicked down Christine's collar where her Mark was concealed. “Oh?” Her voice was light. “Maybe it's my age sweetheart. When I was a girl, an Omega was proud to show off her Mark.”

It was strange to see Christine's smile—normally so warm and genuine, as brittle and hard as glass. “It does seem a little redundant to flash it about in the modern age. Particularly when anyone who takes an interest can clearly smell him on me so strongly.”

“Oh bless your heart dear. Did your mother never tell you an Alpha likes to see his work?”

Now there was a little genuine smirk about her lips. “Oh he sees it often enough as it is.”

“How unique... What a shame Leonard didn't think to invite us to the Bonding ceremony.”

Christine could hardly have reacted differently if she'd been slapped in the face. Her fingers clenched on the cloth of his pants over his waist where she'd slipped her hand and she went white with anger. It was exactly the response the other Omega was looking for.

Mrs. Hartfield's mouth twisted into a coquettish little grin. “Oh I see, it was more of a whirlwind romance sort of affair? No time for formalities with such passion? Well, perhaps we'll be lucky enough to be invited to his next one.”

Leonard could feel the tension in her trembling body as he put his arm around her neck, pulling her against him and pressing down subtly on her Mark. Normally it would have calmed her instantly but even still she seemed tense, ready for a fight. “We mustn't keep you from your other guests Mrs. Hartfield, you've been too generous with your time with us already. Give my regards to your husband.”

“Oh Dr. McCoy but you must dance with Virginia after she's been presented. She mentioned particularly that she was looking forward to seeing you when she heard you were in town. Just between the two of us, I think she had quite the little crush on you when she was in high school...”

“No.” Christine's voice was like ice cracking beneath their feet.

“Oh my things really have changed if an Bonded Omega can tell her Alpha what he can and cannot do. How very modern.”

He should have known from her smell that something bad was about to happen. She smelled riled up, furious and... utterly aroused. Only someone who had never met one could assume that Omegas were uniformly submissive. In fact Leonard sometimes wondered if there were more jockeying for position, manipulation and desire to rule each other in their society than his own. They might bend to the will of their Alphas but it would a mistake to assume that meant they weren't willful.

And Christine had no practice with this kind of stinging exchange that was almost common practice between Omegas of his class. Her natural pride was combining with the sexual excitement of her Bond with him being challenged and making her not wholly rational.

But for the moment Ms. Hartfield greeted Vicky and moved on to her next guests or victims and left them in peace. “Who the fuck does that bitch think she is?” Christine hissed through her teeth.

Leonard laughed. “Jesus Christine, Ms. Hartfield is just an old woman with one pretty little girl left under her petticoats and she has to get all her kicks in while she can before has to speak with people in a civilized way. Take pity on her.”

Vicky considered them both carefully for a moment before she spoke. “Len are you sure you should lecture Christine on being an Omega when you made her into one in the first place?” She spoke in a casual tone of voice but there was a strange cord of steel in her voice. But again they were interrupted from more unpleasantness by the bell that let them know to assemble in the dining room for the presentation of Miss Virginia Hartfield. They lined up with the rest of the company in two receiving lines in the dinning room at the foot of the grand staircase.

She was, by anyone's reckoning, a pretty young thing: her blond curls done up to accentuate a heart-shaped face and pink bow-lips. She was wearing a dress that somehow managed to be modern and accentuate her tiny waist and hips while still fitting overall into the antebellum fashion of the evening, all lace and tiny hand-sown silk rosebuds. Around her neck there was a delicate lace collar meant to hide her virginal Bond site to all but her future Alpha. Like so many things rooted in the primal Alpha-Omega dynamic it had fallen out of fashion for a large part of the population many centuries ago but was still practiced by some traditional families.

Around her there is a swarm of other girls of society, all with delicate lace collars and in matching white gowns. They descend the banner together and twirl for a moment on the floor around her in a series of elaborate movements before finally taking up positions in a V with Virginia at the apex. In unison they sink into elaborate curtseys that take them to the floor, skirts fanning out around them like flower petals. Virginia takes it a step farther, bowing forward until her forehead gracefully rests on the floor in a symbol of submission.

For a long moment nothing is said and then an Alpha moves out onto the floor and begins to speak. “I present Miss Virginia Hartfield, daughter of Mrs Harriette Hartfield and...”

“That's her eldest brother Thomas. He's the oldest Alpha of the clan and so speaks on behalf of her. He'll present her to society and escort her. He'll also fight on her behalf when she hands out her favors.”

“Her favors?”

“It's an old tradition. An Omega on her presentation night will hand out small tokens that invite Alphas in her milieu to fight to win her favor, essentially the right to court her and make an offer to her family. But potential suitors are expected to prove that they're Alpha enough to protect an Omega. It's just a pretty friendly boxing match these days but in the old days it was apparently quite brutal—a real test for the Alpha that might be joining the family.”

“Who decides who gets the favors?”

“The family. The Omega can have more or less input depending on the indulgence of her Alphas though. I would bet Miss Hartfield picked a few of her own.”

On the floor at the command of Thomas Miss Hartfield rose and moved gracefully to his side. He held her hand high as she twirled once gracefully beneath it. One of the maidens with her approached and stood by her side, caring a delicate white basket. Thomas began to lead them both down one side of the receiving line. At each Alpha Miss Hartfield made a deep and very formal curtsey. Into her basket the Alphas slipped small gifts, envelopes or boxes that looked to contain jewelery or the like. And in turn two or three were rewarded with a small pink rose made of silk and lace that her attendant took out and passed to her before she slipped into the palm of the Alpha before her.

Bones couldn't say he was surprised when her attendant passed her a rose as she knelt at his own feet. This was far from the first time he'd fought in a favor bout. Even as he was, a divorced, cantankerous doctor who worked for Star Fleet instead of settling down as a proper country gentleman, he was still the son on David McCoy and his heir. He would be quite a catch for Virginia Hartfield if she could manage it. He accepted the little rose and slipped the jewelry box his mother had given him that afternoon into the basket in return. He nodded to Thomas and she rose and moved on.

Behind him he could feel Christine trembling and smell her fury rising.

When the presentation ceremony finished and the crowd began to disperse he took her by the hand. “Vicky, Christine and I need to speak for a moment. Go make sure I'm not first for the bout.”

As most of the crowd began to walk down to the gardens he took her upstairs to the room with the famous painting, now completely deserted. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line of rage. “Why did you take that?” She hissed.

“It's only good manners Christine. To refuse to even except the bout is a slap in the face to her and her family.”

He had positioned them to stand arms length apart but she closed the distance, putting her hands on his chest as if to shove him away and then letting them slide up his neck to grasp his head. “Do you want her Leonard? Do you want to fuck her? Rut her like you rut me? Is my heat not enough for you?”

“Jesus Christ Christine no!”

She pulled his lips down to hers and he felt her instantly melt in his arms, her mouth yielding to him perfectly. “Don't go to her.” She whispered. “Stay here, fuck me.” She slid down to kneel in front of him, pulling down the edge of her collar to expose the mark. “I'm asking you Leonard not to go.”

He carded his hand through his hair and with some effort pulled her to her feet. “I can't Christine, I'm sorry.”

Vicky was more right than she knew. In every sense of the word he had _made_ her this way. He had ripped through the beta suppressants and facade and found beneath something more primal and uncontrollable. Six months ago he never could have imagined neat Nurse Chapel begging to be rutted and now here she was knelt before him.

“You're not going to like what is going to happen next honey, but just do your best to endure it for me.”

He took her to a small balcony at the end of the room, the real reason he'd chosen it was for it's good view of the lawn where the next part of the evening would be taking place. Out beyond the patio where he had enjoyed a cigar earlier was the ring that had been set up that day. Two large posts had been driven into the ground in a sandy clearing. Thomas was already visible by the bright but warm yellow lights that were suspended at the edge of the ring by some anti-gravity artifice that made them float weirdly above the heads of the crowd. As they watched he led forward his sister from the crowd.

The same woman who had bore her basket forward came forward and began to undo the laces of her dress. With her help Virginia stepped from the large gown and remained in only a flimsy pair of white bloomers and stockings. Her top half was covered by a tight, lacy corset decorated with the same small rosebuds and of course the virginal collar remained. The dress was whisked away and a small silk cushion was brought to the base of one of the posts. With the help of her brother she knelt gracefully onto the pillow, sinking into a perfect presentation and allowing her hair to fall invitingly away from her neck. Her brother came forward with a thick leather band that was connected to the post which he connected to some hidden clasp on her collar. The crowd clapped dutifully for this performance and Virginia smiled, though she did not break posture.

In the other corner one of the Alphas who had received her flower stepped forward leading by the hand a male Omega. The male Omega began to strip down to his shirt-sleeves and briefs while a pillow was similarly fetched for him.

Christine watched the scene for a moment before turning to him. “You expect to display me lashed to a post while you fight for the right to Bond with another?”

Even for an Omega who had been raised with the expectation of this it would have been hard during the first six months of their Bond. With hormone levels this high running they were both feeling touchy and volatile when they felt the Bond was threatened. Already he could feel the anticipation building in him. He wanted to see her with that leather strap around her neck, knelt submissively at his heel and waiting for him to return to her after the fight. He wanted to see her neck exposed, waiting for him to first claim victory and then claim her as prize. He felt his pants grow tight as he thought of it.

“Yes.” He said. “I expect you to show Miss Hartfield and everyone else what a good Omega I have. I expect you to show them how prettily you kneel for me and let them guess how prettily you scream as you take my knot.” One arm he put around her waist to pull her against him, letting her feel his hardening cock against her ass. The other went to her neck, drawing his thumb against her Bond and making her gasp.

He knew it was manipulation but he needed her pliable, needed her submission.

“You want me to fuck you Christine?”

“Yes... more than anything Leonard please.”

“Put your hands on the balustrade and don't cum. This is for my pleasure. I want you still riled up while you watch me fight.”

The ornate railing of the balcony was low, forcing her to bend at the waist and her Omega instincts accentuated this, forcing a more exaggerated lordosis into her spine so her ass presented to him perfectly. He lifted her skirts and pulled down her bloomers.

“Just what these dresses were made for. A quick fuck to please your Alpha while you hope I don't muss your hair to let everyone know what we did.”

“Oh please Leonard. Fill me up.”

He undid his pants and freed himself. For a moment he teased her with it, running it up and down her slick-drenched slit and pulling back each time she tried to shift her hips back to impale herself on it. He fixed her with a sharp slap on the ass. “Not until I tell you to move.”

Her head snapped up in a muffled groan when he finally did plunge into her. His fingers gripped her haunches hard enough she would be bruised the next day as he used her roughly, fucking her with little regard for her moans and groans of pleasure. He came quickly as was his intention, filling her with a muffled roar and digging his fingers into the flesh of her hips and ignoring her small cry of pain. To his satisfaction she didn't move as he pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants. Their combined slick round down her right thigh. He took out his pocket square and wiped it carefully away, folding it back into his pocket carefully. Then he pulled her bloomers back up over her ass and rearranged her skirt, pulling it down carefully and then offering her a hand to rise.

“You take my seed. You will show them your obedience.”

“Yes Leonard.”

He led her down to the sandy circle. The last few bouts were winding up and they found Vicky again in the crowd. With a single sniff his sister seemed to know what had happened between them and why Christine now had the dazed look she sometimes got before a heat. Vicky raised her eyebrows and nodded once. He had manipulated her well and he felt like a bastard for it but it would make the ceremony easier for them both.

Bones was to fight last and so he entered the sandy circle there was already blood on the sandy, though the medics healed the fighters back to full capacity after each round. He nodded to Thomas and then gestured for Christine to come forward. Vicky came to help her with her dress.

Christine's cheeks flushed with shame as her body was bared to the crowd. For a girl born to this it would have been no humiliation but an honor to be so displayed by her Alpha but for her he knew it was mortifying. He felt himself twitch again in his pants at the thought she would endure it at his command.

She knelt gracefully on the pillow as she had seen the others do, cocking her head to show her Mark. He brought the leather strap and squatted next to her. He took her small hand in his larger and looped the strap loosely around her wrist. He wanted to see her chained by the neck or waist, a more traditional sign of subservience but forced himself not to. “You can stand if you want honey, you don't have to kneel for me.”

She shook her head and reached for him, kneeling up for a kiss.

With her free hand she trailed her fingers and slid her palm over the scent glands at her neck near the Bond mark and then pulled him to her for a kiss, sliding the same hand around over his own scent glands and to the back of his head to caress him and encourage him to deepen the kiss. She somehow managed to make the gesture seem unintentional but he knew instantly what she had done and exactly what she had intended. Instantly he could feel his nostrils flaring as the scent of her reached him. She'd marked him with her scent and the affect on him powerful and rapid. He wanted to take her by the back of the head and bend her over right there. To lift her skirts and mate her in front of the crowd to show them and her what she would do at his bidding. He could imagine how satisfying it would be to pull the loose blouse of her shift down over her tits and then force her down into the sand. He would push her knees together and then fuck her brutally, driving her down into the sand with each thrust.

Instead he stood and turned to face Thomas.

As he walked to the center where they were to grasp hands until the bell rang Leonard knew the other man could smell Christine on him. It was a double provocation to them both: an insult to Virginia that Christine had dared mark Leonard when he was meant to fight for her and the smell of her was intoxicating to them both, a shot of brandy and rage.

The bout was short and brutal. Thomas struck him first and the small modicum of restraint he had intended to show snapped. With two quick blows he had the other man on the ground. Thomas kicked out at his legs and then they were grappling on the floor, the rules of boxing had evaporated. Later Vicky would tell him it lasted only two minutes but for Leonard it felt much longer. He was fighting full out and with his Star Fleet Training it was only a matter of time before he had the other Alpha pinned with his hands behind his back.

The red haze that had been clouding his vision seemed to receded slightly as he stood and the crowd politely clapped.

Vicky helped Christine back on with her dress and the party dispersed back to the main dining room. The conversation was light. They talked about trade, the Romulan's, the presentation and local gossip. But Leonard was fairly sure that no one failed to notice that he had taken unhooked the leather strap from the post and not from her. It still twisted around her wrist, the other end folded over to make a short leash for her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a comment to let me know what you think of the new chapter and if you've managed to make it over from the old version! Let me know if you want more of the bondage stuff--I think that's where I'm headed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please please leave me a review! I love to hear from you!

Chapter 9--

 

The next morning in the shower the glass door slid back and she stepped in. Without a word, she sank to her knees. She pulled her hair to one side, already starting to darken under the spray so he could see her Mark and leaned up. She raised her eyes to his face and looked at him. It was a perfect presentation. She stayed there for a long moment as he stared down at her.

For the first time he noticed that, though the fight had been hours ago, his jaw was still locked tight in fear and frustration. The muscles in his shoulders and back hadn't relaxed yet. But as he looked at her, submissively kneeling in front of him, the tension began to dissolve. He began to breath a little more easily and his jaw relaxed. _She is mine. She is not taken from me. She takes my knot, bares my pups, waits on my word._

Only then did she take him into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around him and he groaned softly. She bobbed on him for a while and then began to go farther, choking on him slightly like he liked.

She took his free hand in hers and guided it to the back of her head until he tangled his fingers in her hair. He looked down at her, her face still upturned in the spray of water and swallowed hard. The eager look on her face was enough to make his veins run with fire and ice. He took a steadying breath and then began to pump in earnest.

He took his time, not hurrying to finish though he knew her knees would be raw from kneeling on the rough slate floor of the shower and sometimes when he drove particularly deep she teared up slightly. Her throat would be raw that day. Finally, when he couldn't hold back anymore, he took one final thrust, pushing deep into her warm, tight mouth and throat and spilled his seed.

Dutifully she swallowed eagerly and waited for him to pull out of her mouth. He stood looking down at her for a long moment after that. She was so beautiful on her knees, water streaming down her breasts and torso, mark fully presented to him. He offered her a hand up. “Can I stay here? Just a little longer?” Her voice trembled slightly.

She had been trembling too after the fight, though she smelled of fear and him of rage, he remembered. When he'd put his hand on the back of her neck and guided her into her presentation position she had been shaking like a leaf. He felt, suddenly, like an asshole. He'd been so consumed by his own anger, his own fear and need to reassert his claim he hadn't spared any though for how she might have felt.

“No honey, you're knees are raw.”

The brutality with which he had thrust into her had scrapped her knees on the rough dark stone of the shower floor. What idiot fashion had induced either his mother or sister to chose it for the showers? He could see a little tinge of red in the water pooling around her legs. “Please...”

“No honey.”

He folded her into a towel and went to go get his medical kit. He cleaned and wiped the scraped dry before repairing the skin with his tricorder. “Are you mad at me?” His head shot up and suddenly he felt the man from the bar the night before was standing on his chest. Quickly she wiped the tears pooling in her eyes away with the back of her hand. “I'm really sorry Leona...” The sentence dissolved into the lump in her throat.

He swallowed and took her hands in his. He dropped a kiss into them gently. “You have nothing to apologize for and I have nothing to be angry with you about. I'm angry with myself, that's all. I shouldn't have reacted the way that I did...I should never have let that happen to you in the first place.”

“You said... and I didn't listen... and I...”

Now it was his turn to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Nothing at all. You did nothing wrong. I acted badly. Mrs. Hartfield acted badly. You did nothing wrong.”

He pulled her to her feet and into a tight embrace and he could feel her chest shudder as she began to cry in earnest. For an agonizing while she was incoherent, just little mewling sobs of distress that each felt like a knife being dragged across the skin of his heart. But she could only cry for a short while with that intensity. Her tears ran out and then her dry sobs too and she was still in his arms, panting.

“I'm so sorry that I let this happen,” he murmured.

“I don't know why... I mean she was being rude but so was I and I don't know why. I felt so out of control I just knew... I just knew I had to keep you from... I just wanted to rip her throat out...”

He was stroking her hair gently and rocking her slowly back and forth. “I would not dishonor you Christine.”

“I mean I know it's your right... would be your right...”

“I would _never_ take another Omega like that, so disrespectfully.”

When she had calmed down he released her and she sighed a little bit and went to splash cold water on her face. “I'm sorry to be so emotional.”

“I wish you'd stop apologizing.”

She laughed. “I guess I'm sorry for that too then.”

“Come now, let's go down for breakfast.”

After breakfast he went upstairs into the attic. It hadn't taken him but a moment to find what he was looking for. He'd played up there a lot as a child and even then this particular chest had always held a fascination for him. Perhaps even then he'd known what his second gender would be. He found the small velvet box he was looking for and put it in his pocket before coming downstairs.

She was in her bra and underwear, running a curling iron through her hair in the bathroom. When he stepped in she looked up at him in the mirror and smiled. “You'd better put your suit on or we'll be late for the wedding.”

He put the box on the counter.

“What is that?”

“Did I ever tell you that my great grandmother was an Omega?”

“No, I don't think so.”

“This belonged to her.”

He opened the box and drew out a Leashing Chain wrought in Extridium.

Leashing Chains were extraordinarily rare these days. They were relics of an ancient past: like a corset or a chastity belt. But back in the days when Omegas had been more abundant they had been as common as wedding rings. An Alpha would present this to an Omega when she was Bonded as a sign of his respect and position. It was a display of wealth, power and authority to be sure, but also a reminder to the Omega that she was under his protection. They could be made of anything from a simple leather thong to this particularly fine one, depending on the station of the Alpha.

It came out of more ancient traditions as well. The noble Omegas of Europe had often been lead by them when out in public with their Alphas by fine slender leashes. During parties and fine occasions they were expected to be leashed as well and kneel on a cushion next to their Alphas as well to be hand fed. Leonard remembered being shown the small hooks or pins designed to hang the leash during meal on chairs s from that era specifically designed to hold the leash's ring. It was rare for Omegas to be displayed in this way in the modern era though not totally out of practice. He had been to a few weddings where either the bride or groom had been leashed and knelt beside their Alpha for the first meal. This set even came with a matching leash that ended a heavy extridium ring. It also came with a tie pin emblazened with his family's crest and cleverly designed in two pieces so that it could snap around the ring. In this was the Omega could be leashed to the tie pin, leaving the Alpha's hands free.

It had another meaning as well. With a wink your grandmother might tell you that it was meant to be a handle. But at it's core it was another way of reminding everyone—the Omega and other potential Alphas that the person who wore it _belonged_ to someone else. Traditional ones, like this one, couldn't be removed. When his grandmother had passed away a small clasp had been put in the chain to allow it to be passed down but when she'd worn it it would have been a single, continuous circle of metal.

Small wonder the practice had faded in this enlightened age.

“Do you know what this is Christine?”

“Yes.” Her voice trembled slightly.

He could see her eyes watching him intently in the mirror as he slipped his arms around her waist and brought it around to fasten behind her. The small click it made when it closed seemed to both of them like a thunderclap. She shivered.

“Tomorrow we'll go into town and I'll have a jeweler adjust it to fit you and strike out the clasp.”

Gingerly she allowed her fingers to close around the precious metal band. Extridium had a pleasing, opalescent sheen, almost like platinum, but it was stronger than steel. He could have lifted her by the fine chain if he'd wanted too. That was why it was so expensive. A chain that size was a family heirloom, worth much more than a diamond ring might.

“In six months...”

“You can do with it as you like,” he finished for her. “For now, when you are with me, you will w... I prefer that you wear it.”

When they parted ways she might do a lot of things he didn't like to contemplate: strike off the chain, cover her bite with a makeup or plastic surgery, go back on suppressors and pretend she'd never heard of Leonard McCoy. She'd never be able to fuck another Alpha, much less be rutted by one, but she could find a nice Beta to be her boyfriend. With enough hormone therapy she might even be able to get pregnant by him. As is all her right, he reminded himself firmly, though it didn't make him feel any differently about it.

But as long as they were together she couldn't do any of those things and that made things slightly more complicated. He knew that, despite what she might wish to be true, the Leashing Chain would make her feel more secure. It would be another physical reminder to her that he had accepted the task of Bonding her. Though it was true that the Omega's end of the bargain was significantly more on display, Alphas too had obligations to undertake once they had Bonded. This would serve as a physical reminder of her standing and importance to him.

“Leonard... I can't possibly accept it. It's too expensive.”

His fingers curled in chain and he jerked her back against his broad chest by it. He pulled her flush against him so she could feel his erection digging into her ass. He dipped his free hand into her panties and found that she was sopping.

“You'll accept what I give you Christine. No argument.” He snarled in her ear. She shivered. He could see in the mirror that her pupils were blown wide. “God but I have half a mind to push you down and fuck that willfulness out of you. But you'd probably enjoy that. I almost like this better, having you go sopping for me to the wedding.”

He pushed down on the sink, bending her over in front of him, and pulled her head to the side so she could see her Mark in the mirror. “Tell me what I want to hear Christine.”

She shivered. “I will wear it Leonard. I will take what you give.”

He thrust against her once to drive his point home. “Damn right.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Do you want my cock Christine? Do you want me to fuck you over the bathroom sink to show you that I can?”

“Yes Leonard.” Her voice was a throaty whisper.

“Beg.”

“Please fuck me. Please fuck me... God I can't bear how you make me feel. I'm burning up and I need your cock in me. I'll be a good girl for you, I'll take it any way you want me to. Anything you want Leonard... anything at all.”

With a single finger he pushed her panties to the side to get a look at her drooling sex. She was so warm and ready for him he almost wanted to oblige—fuck her hard against the sink until she had bruises across her thighs. But the smell of her like this was intoxicating and he wanted to enjoy it. He blew lightly on her sex and she moaned.

He pulled her head back so she made eye contact with him through the mirror and gave her a small, mean grin. “See the trouble is Christine is that I've only just fucked your mouth to satisfaction and you're going to have to wait until I'm good and ready again for me to fuck you. Instead I think I'll send you down to the party smelling like you do now—wet and ready for me and me alone. Don't even think about changing these panties Christine, I want everyone to know that you wait for me.”

The small o her mouth made was the most precious thing he'd ever seen: it conveyed everything—her frustration, her shock and most of all her desire. “Thank me for my gift Christine.”

“Thank you for the Leashing Chain Leonard.”

He smiled. “Good girl. Now go get ready.”

She looked lovely in a simple corn-flower blue dress, cut modestly but nipping in at the smallest part of her waist and showing off her long legs to full advantage. She was wearing heels too—simple silver ones that matched a small clasp she'd put in her hair. Most importantly however the neckline of the dress was almost off the shoulders and her hair, though mostly down as she knew he liked, she had pinned back on the side of her Mark to make sure it was always fully displayed. He could smell too that he had obeyed her when it came to the panties. The smell of desire still permeated the air around her.

“You look beautiful.”

Outside on the lawn a good number of the guests had already arrived. They mingled for a while, having some champagne and hor d'oeuvres before the ceremony began. Since he was walking Izzie down the isle he settled her in her seat before walking back to the house. He put his hand on her waist to guide her to her chair, relishing the feeling of the silver chain beneath and allowing himself to finger it gently to remind her of it too. He sat her next to Tom and then went back.

The ceremony was brief and afterward they had dinner and drinks in a big pavilion. Christine mostly chatted with Vicky and Carol, who she seemed to have taking quite a shine too. She raised her eyebrows though when, once the dancing had begun, he offered her his hand.

“You know I never would have pegged you as the dancing type. I should have asked Vicky to take a holovid for me. The other nurses are going to call me a liar.”

“Well the prettiest girl in the room isn't likely to stay in her chair all night. And I wouldn't want anyone else to have your first dance.”

It was an old jazz swing standard.

“You know I'm having a wonderful time this weekend. It was lovely of Izzie to let me come last minute.”

“Hmmm? Oh yes, she was happy to do it for you. I am sorry to have dragged you back to Earth.”

“I'm having a lovely time.”  
She was truly stunning in the golden light of the pavilion and the champagne was going to his head rather quicker than he'd intended. Or maybe it was only the feel of her in his arms.

“Follow me.” He said when the song ended.

She let him lead her by the hand off the dance floor and out of the lighted pavilion. He took a an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and two flutes from one of the tables as they left. The moon was full and bright enough to see their way, though it gave a queer, alien slant to the familiar scene. He led her down the bath to the stables but instead of going inside he took her around the side.

“Where are we going Leonard.”

“You'll see.”

He took her to the barn first where he collected one of the clean saddle blankets stored with the other tack. He spread this out on the moon-drenched lawn on a little swell of a hill on the far side of the barn. From this angle they would be difficult to see from both the house and the party but the full-moon made the scene almost clear as day though in a weird, silvery light. Gently he took her by the hand and brought her to kneel down next to him on the blanket. He opened the champagne and poured two glasses.

For a moment they drank in silence. Then he took both glasses and placed them in two clever slots on the side of the bucket designed specifically from that. He pulled her down next to him on the blanket, half draping her across his chest so they could both look up at the stars. One hand curled almost automatically in her long tresses, the other around her small waist.

“You've done this before haven't you.” Her voice wasn't accusing.

“Done what before?”

“Taken girls here.. for this.”

Her fingers were tracing a languid pattern on is chest. “Yes.”

“Many?”

“Yes.”

“You don't want to talk about that?”

“Not with you.”

“Why not? I won't get jealous, I promise.”

He drew her closer. “It seems... impolite to think of past lovers with you here. Or at the very least futile.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing. I'd rather just lie here with you to be honest.”

“Okay.”

What was there to talk about? He could barely remember them with the smell of her in the air. Even his ex-wife seemed like a distant memory. Leonard pulled her close against him and stared up at the moon (nearly full it seemed to him though he wasn't sure). Her long, slender legs intertwined in his and her hair spread out behind her like a flag on the grass. The smell of her in the grass and moonlight was something he would remember till his dying day he knew.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't forget to leave a review! I love to hear from you! Good or bad I am always open to suggestions on how to improve my writing or just to hear that someone is reading and enjoying the work I'm doing!


	5. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's just smut all the way down ya'll. I hope you enjoy a little BDSM.

Chapter 10--

 

Back on the Enterprise Bones had to admit that being with Christine was near bliss. She slept in his arms and woke wet and willing. Sometimes he fucked her gently in the bed. Sometimes he rutted her hard on the floor. Sometimes she pulled him into the shower and they took turns pleasing each other. Afterward they went to work together (it was a rare day he couldn't arrange for them to have overlapping shifts) and came home together. Sickbay was much more pleasant with the smell of her around.

It surprised him how much the simple fact of her presence made him feel relaxed. The ambient sound of her breathing next to him at night, moving around the apartment as he cooked, showering as he got ready in the morning; the smell of her that permeated his things; and the small little caresses that she bestowed upon him in passing he enjoyed more than he felt he had a real right to. He had lived alone for so many years he hadn't realized how miserable it made him. Humans—Alphas in particular—are not meant to be solitary creatures. The pleasure of having her around was like slipping into a warm bath after a long walk in the snow.

There was that evening after they'd been called to a mining disaster and he'd seen three ensigns crushed right in front of him when a beam collapsed, slamming down on top of them before he could even blink. He'd been sitting on the couch afterward, reading over some new scientific papers on a PADD. He could hear her in the shower, singing a little bit to herself. Then he heard her get out and dress herself, the hum of the rapid hairdryer and her footsteps as she went naked to the closet to pick out clothes. He didn't become consciously aware of her, tracking her movements had become a complete and unavoidable second nature to him, until he realized that she was bringing him a bourbon. Wordlessly she set it down on the coffee table next to his feet. Then she'd climbed up on the couch next to him and put her head in his lap.

She pressed a soft, gentle kiss to his closest hip. Her soft, plump lips pressing into his flesh just over his hipbone seemed to ask, _how are you?_

He carded his fingers through her hair, running them over her scalp. _I'm fine. Only tired._

She slid a hand down his thigh, looping it over so her slender hand dangled between his legs and she was anchored to him. She closed her eyes. _I am here for you, if you need me._

Only when she was asleep did he allow himself to run his fingers over the scarred flesh on her neck. He traced the outline of his own teeth, marked out in livid red on her pale, creamy skin. _I need you always._

There had been breakfast a few weeks later. It was their day off and they'd risen late. He remembered that he'd fucked her from behind that morning, something they rarely did outside of heat. He liked to see her face when she came and she had difficulty accommodating him in that position when her heat wasn't on her. Afterward she'd showered and he'd cooked eggs, bacon and pancakes.

She'd come to the table with wet hair and in only one of his T-shirts, the old MissU Rowing one he'd put on her that first morning and she'd claimed as her own. “You know,” he'd said, “if you need an enormous T-shirt that doesn't fit you a whit I can buy you a new one.”

She grinned. “I like this one just fine.”

“I can see that. It's just that I happen to like it quite a bit as well.”

She stuck out her tongue. “Well come take it off me then.”

“Maybe I will. I could teach you some manners while I'm at it.”

“I'd like to see you try.”

He came to join her at the table, putting her plate down in front of her and taking the seat across. “Honey, someday you're going to get that sweet bottom switched if you keep talking like that. In my day we were taught to respect our elders.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“Honey.”

“It's a term of endearment when I come from, like sweetie or beloved I guess.”

“No, I don't think so. You say it almost like it's got a capital letter in front of it and you never call me sweetie or anything else, like it's some nickname you have for me.”

He took a bite of his food so he wouldn't have to answer and thought while he chewed. Finally he said, “that is what you taste like to me. Honey.”

Her brow furrowed. “Really?”

He nodded. “It's more complex than that I suppose, but that is the primary impression I have.”

He didn't know why he felt so embarrassed telling her that. Perhaps because she had seen the beehives at the farmhouse but he wasn't sure she would put together what it meant. Hell he wasn't even sure he understood what it meant. “What do I taste like to you?” He asked, to distract her.

She thought for a long moment. “This is going to sound odd but I think I would say like the ocean more than anything else.”

He frowned. “I taste salty to you?”

“No, it's not salty. The ocean has a taste underneath the salt and it's that. But other things too, the bourbon you drink and the cigars you smoke. Your leather jacket and the oil from your motorcycle. Those things are from what you do though, the other one is maybe from what you are?” She blushed and waved herself off, “oh look at me talking nonsense over breakfast.”

“No, I know what you mean.”

“Why do... why do you think I taste like honey to you?”

He shrugged. “I'm not sure.”

But as he tucked back into his breakfast he felt suddenly that he did know. Those beehives had been the first thing Bones had ever cared for. They had been his and his alone, a responsibility and bond he shared with no one. And for that, he had loved them. _Just as I love her_ , he thought. The realization was sudden and profound, akin to looking down only to realize that you have, without being aware of it, wandered to the edge of a precipice. And it filled him with bittersweet dread.

He would have to give her up. In two months the hormones would abate and she would move out. She would leave his quarters and his life. They would go back to being colleagues. Someday, in all likelihood, she would transfer away from him too and then he might never smell her again.

That prospect seemed unimaginable.

They fought too of course. He remembered those just as fondly.

“You can't switch my shifts around like that! It's not fucking fair to the other nurses!” He turned around just in time to catch a crumpled printout of the latest duty roster as it bounced off his chest. She'd just come off shift and was still in her uniform.

“I'm the Chief Medical Officer, I can do as I damn well please.” He was careful to keep his voice level and calm but already he could feel his temper rising. How dare the little chit speak to him in that way, speak to _her Alpha_ in that way. He'd teach her to mind him. He'd been cutting carrots but he rinsed off his hands and the knife and went into the living room where she was pacing furiously.

“You aren't acting like the CMO, Leonard! You're acting like an asshole! All my shifts are with you and they're all during regular hours. I might be the only nurse in Star Fleet without any night duty this month!”

“Stop shouting Christine.”

“Don't tell me not to shout you... you... you fucking insufferable bastard!”

She looked like she wanted to shove him but he also didn't think it was a coincidence that she kept the coffee table between them. “I'm going to give you one more chance to calm down by yourself Christine.”

She temporized for only a moment. She was far too angry to let the threat get to her. “Fuck you!”

Quicker than she could blink he had her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. She thrashed her legs one but a hard swat to her bottom stilled her. “Don't you fucking move!” He barked.

None too gently he brought her to the edge of the bed and let her down. He tangled a hand in her hair and bent her over the back of the bed so that her stomach and face were pressed into the sheets. The bed was tall enough that she bent neatly at the waist, knees pressed to the side of it. He bent over her body, pressing his against the line of it and let her feel his weight and superior strength. He kicked her legs open with a foot and pressed himself against her, letting her feel that he was already half hard. With both hands she was trying to pull herself out from under him. He caught both hands easily and slid them beneath her stomach, trapping them under their combined weights.

She was sobbing he realized distantly. “It's either this or I go get my belt Christine. You tell me which you prefer.”

She tried to push herself up off the bed but it was a pathetic effort. The way she was writhing beneath him was making him harder and already he could smell her getting wet. This position, however much she hated it, was already beginning to make her more pliable to what he wanted. The reminder of his physical strength was not something her Omega nature could ignore, however much she might want to.

He tangled one free hand in her hair. “Present Christine! Show me _my_ Mark!”

She was clenching her teeth together in frustration but she couldn't stop herself. Her Alpha had given her a command and somewhere, on some level, she wanted to obey. Her Omega nature wouldn't let her hide the Mark he'd made from him. She sobbed louder. “Don't you fucking.. don't you fucking dare!” She managed to choke out.

He licked her neck, covering her in his scent and she muffled a sob of frustration into the bed. But once he nipped lightly at the skin over the mark, the sob turned into a moan. Gently, he placed his teeth over the mark and it was if he'd touched her with an electrical wire. Ever muscle in her body tensed at once and she let out a sputtering little choking mew of a noise that shot straight through his chest and down to his cock.

If they had truly been Bonded—if he'd had any right at all—he would have ripped open her Bond mark again before fucked her.

With his other free hand he pushed up the skirt of her uniform and ripped down her panties to expose her sex, already dripping down her leg. He pushed her legs together. “Keep your knees touching. I want you nice and tight.” He snarled into her ear.

He plunged into her in a single stroke. Her body under his arched gorgeously as she struggled to accommodate him. It must have been painful, he knew. He wasn't at the most forgiving angle and he gave her no mercy, slamming his hips into hers as hard and as fast as he could. Obediently she kept her knees tight together though, despite the discomfort it must have caused.

He leaned up off of her body, wanting to enjoy the view, slowing slightly but still making sure to push the full length of him into her with slow, punishing strokes. The long, creamy expanse of her back spread out before him. She kept her head to one side just as he had commanded, Bond mark beautifully presented and her forehead down into the sheets almost as if she were genuflecting before some God. “Good girl.” He snarled.

She was panting hard, pushing back against him as hard as she could, given her awkward angle. “Please, please, please, please Leonard, I need more.”

It was a surprise to neither of them when his knot began to swell. This far out of heat it was rare for an Alpha to be able to knot his Omega but not impossible and lord knows they were both turned on. “God yes, please Leonard. Please tie me. Please... oh please.”

When the knot was nearly full he pushed it halfway in and held it for a moment so she felt at it's widest point. She pressed her forehead harder into the sheets, moaning at the overwhelming sensation but she didn't break pose. Her knees stayed together, intensifying her pain and his pleasure. Her mark remained presented.

“Say my name.”

“Leonard... Leonard... Leonard.”

“No other Alpha will ever have you.”

“Just you Leonard! No one else!”

With one more brutal snap of his hips, he was fully inside of her. She came immediately, muscles contracting down on him in the most exquisite combination of heat and warmth and tightness. The urge to claim her again was overwhelming. In the flood of sensation that surrounded him the impulse to reopen the wound on her neck was all he could think about. He needed to remind her what she was to him, _his_ , and what he was to her, _hers_. He needed to paint that in her flesh with his teeth so she would never forget.

He brought his arm up to his mouth and bit into the thick muscle just at the top of his forearm hard enough to make his teeth meet. With a roar, he came too, filling her with seed.

Afterward he pushed her hips against the bed for a long moment. The pressure on her clit and the renewed sensation of being crushed beneath him was enough to bring her to a small, quaking orgasm. When the aftermath of that had subsided he managed to scoop up her knees to her chest and bring her to the top of the bed. It was slightly awkward, tied together as they were, and she was limp as a rag doll in his arms.

He pulled the covers over them and drew her to his chest. She was crying a little bit he saw. Not sobbing but there was a slow trickle of tears, whether from the pain or his brutality he didn't know. He felt exhausted, wrung completely free of something (though what he didn't know). Gently he fingered the Bond mark, still whole and intact. He pressed his forehead to it and felt almost as if he wanted to join her in tears. He wasn't the sort of man who prayed often but in that moment he thanked whatever Gods he could think of that he hadn't bitten her again. Guilt, shame and relief seemed to sit together in his chest, making him feel weak and old and worn.

They lay together in silence until his knot had come down far enough for him to slide out of her without hurting her. He pulled out gently and bent over her, kissing her tear-soaked cheeks. Salt and honey, he licked his lips. “Christine I am so sorry. I'll change the schedule back tomorrow, I promise.”

Her brow furrowed. “Leonard, you're hurt.” She sat up, pushing herself up to lean against the bedstead, “let me look at your arm.”

He glanced down. The wound had bled profusely and his forearm and the bedspread were covered in drying blood. “It's not as bad as it looks. Why don't you shower first. I can clean up in the kitchen and when you're done we can have dinner together, if you still want to.”

She bit her lip. “Please let me see it.”

With reluctance he allowed her to take his arm into her lap. With expert fingers she pushed and prodded the skin.

 

 

 

“Where the fuck have you been?”

The question wasn't really a question. He knew by her clothes and her smell where she had been and who she'd been with. The dress told him she'd been at the bar. The smell of other nurses and ensigns told him who her company had been.

She swallowed. “I went out for a beer with some of the others. I didn't think you'd be back for hours.”

“You've been on a dangerous away mission for two fucking days Christine. People died planet side! You didn't think I'd want you to leave a note if you were going out afterward? _Hello, I'm not dead, I'll be home in a bit_?”

She bit her lip. “I didn't think...”

“That's fucking right you didn't think! Jesus, Christine I was so fucking worried.”

“You could have...”

“I did ask the computer where you were! You want me to come drag you out of ten forward by the hair next time Christine? Because please believe me when I say, I would be more than happy to oblige!”

He'd thought about it too. God it had been a near thing. But he'd known enough not to come look for her in public. He'd hailed Spock instead and gone down to the gym to let out his frustration by being pummeled by the Vulcan for an hour or two. It had clearly not been enough though based on the way he was shouting at her. God maybe he should have let Spock send him to sickbay.

It had been hard enough agreeing to let her go on the away mission in the first place. The last two days had been an agony for him. He'd shouted at the nursing staff so much they'd barely had the courage to come into his office to tell him about a patient that was coding out (a lapse for which he had shouted at them even more). He'd beaten Jim so bloody during a sparing match that he'd finally had to advice the captain that he had to either stop the match or resign as CMO of the Enterprise. Jim had even seemed somewhat relieved as he spat “oh you fucking pansy” through a mouthful of blood and snot.

“Yeah, yeah, come on, let's get you to sickbay.” Bones had replied.

And now, after all that, he was still shouting at her.

This was not how he had imagined welcoming her home. He'd bought a bottle of wine for the occasion. Neither of them particularly liked wine but he'd wanted to drink it while he listened to her talk about the away mission as he cooked her dinner. He wished he could turn off the voice in his head that was screaming _disobedient! She'll get herself hurt, she'll get herself into trouble!_ _Teach her what an Alpha does with a disobedient Omega. Show her what the consequences are!_

He expected her to shout at him. Either that or to look sheepishly away. He was being so irrational and he knew it. What he didn't expect was for her to look at hm for a long moment. She seemed to take in everything: the white knuckles of his clenched fists, the tight muscles in his jaw, the flexing in his arms, the red scar where he'd bitten his forearm weeks ago, and the tension in his legs.

“Okay Leonard.” She'd finally said gently before turning on her heel and walking toward the bedroom.

It took a lot of willpower not to stalk after her. If she thought she could just walk away from... but already she was back. She'd gone into the bedroom and come back out, carrying something. It was one of his belts: a thick black leather thing he'd gotten years ago in medical school. It was still in good condition though, about as wide as her wrist and with a simple silver buckle.

She held it out. He didn't take it.

“What the fuck are you doing with that Christine?”

“You said last time we fought that you'd go get your belt if I preferred.”

His head swam. Suddenly he was no longer angry. His heart was racing now for an entirely different reason. And he was half hard in his shorts. “No Christine I didn't mean...”

Her arm lowered slightly, her brow twisting. “This.. this isn't something that you want?”

He licked his lips. “Of course it's something that I want but.. I mean... that is... you can't possibly...”

“I can't possibly what?”

He pointed to the belt. “Is this something that _you_ want?”

She wouldn't meet his eyes. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she nodded, almost imperceptibly.

Bones thought his knees might give out. His mouth was suddenly very dry.

“I need you to say it.” His voice was rougher than usual.

“It is something I want.”

“Look at me. And say the whole thing.”

She obeyed. “The belt. The belt is something that I want.”

“Alright. Give it to me.” Her hand shook as she gave it to him but she didn't hesitate either.

This wasn't the first time that Bones had done this. A few of his Beta girlfriends had enjoyed light bondage and spanking and the like. One had even wanted to tie him up. He'd found it a pleasant enough way to introduce a little variety. And he was always happy to oblige when they asked. But it had never felt like this. The desire for it had always felt secondary. He wanted to do it because they wanted to do it, and he wanted to make them happy. But this... God what kind of bastard was she turning him into?

“Go get on the bed. Shoes off but leave your dress on.”

She did as she was told, sitting on her knees, facing him. He pulled the pillows off the top of the bed to give her room.

“Get onto your hands an knees facing the headboard. Lean forward until your forehead touches the mattress. Then stretch out your arms until your fingers touch the headboard.”

She did as she was told. In that position she was supported by three points, her knees and her chest and forehead. She also couldn't see anything, with her head down and her hair falling to either side of her face. She shivered slightly in anticipation as she felt his weight join her on the bed.

He put the belt down next to her, touching her arm so she could feel it. He ran a hand down her spine, correcting her posture into a more classic Omegan presentation form: exaggerating the lordosis of her spine so her bottom more steeply angled up. A thrust from that exact angle would allow him a deeper and more satisfying penetration.

The dress she was wearing was pale green cotton with small rosettes sown along the top for decoration and tiny pearl buttons down to the waist. He slipped a hand under her and undid the first three buttons and pushed down her bra so her breasts sprang free. He rolled one nipple in his fingers for a moment until she shivered with pleasure and then released it.

Next he turned his attention to her bottom. “Keep your knees pressed together until I tell you otherwise.”

She obeyed.

Slowly, taking his time to savor it, he pushed her skirt up over her bottom so it bunched over her waist and pulling her panties down to her knees.

He took a moment to admire his work. She looked incredible. Her dress pulled down and pushed up, breasts flushed and heaving and sex already starting to drip down her leg. She looked ready for anything he was willing to give her. How had it not occurred to him to do this before?

“Don't move.”

He stood up and went to the shower. He was just back from the gym and covered in some mixture of he and Jim's sweat and blood. He tried to drag the shower out. He shampooed and conditioned his hair and scrubbed himself from head to toe. But the thought of her waiting for him was too much and he found he rushed despite himself.

He toweled himself off and stepped back out of the bathroom. She hadn't moved an inch. He smiled at that. If he hadn't been able to see her breath moving her hair he might have mistaken her for a statue. He went into the closet and pulled on jeans over his bare legs. He toweled off his hair again and then put it back on the rack.

He stood in the bathroom door and admired her again for a moment before moving the bedside. She trembled imperceptibly as she felt him kneel on the bed beside her and pick up the belt. He caressed her bottom for a moment, trailing his fingers delicately over her sex and making her pant slightly.

“I'm going to give you five hard lashes Christine. Say 'Yes Leonard' if you understand.”

“Yes Leonard.”

“Tell me if you consent.”

“Yes Leonard.”

“I am not going to go easy on you. Do you understand?”

“Yes Leonard.”

“After each one I expect you to count the lash and thank me for it. If you don't thank me I'll stop there.”

“Yes Leonard.”

She was barely done speaking before he cracked the belt across her ass for the first time. It made a sound like a thunderclap and she jerked out of her form, knees spreading apart as far as they could, hobbled as she was by her panties, and arms pulling back on the covers, head jerking up.

“One! Thank you Leonard!”

“Ah ah ah, that wasn't very good Christine. You're just learning now but later I might add an extra if you move like that. Get back into your form for me now.”

She scrambled back into her form as the first stripe bloomed red across her ass. He kneaded the flesh a little, knowing it would reduce the bruising and pain tomorrow, even if for now it made her moan. When she'd moved she'd inadvertently pushed her dress back over her breasts so they were concealed, he pulled it back so they were revealed again. He could feel her heart fluttering against her chest.

_Crack_!

This time she held her form a little better. Her knees stayed together at least though her arms jerked back again. “Two! Thank you Leonard!”

He fixed her arms back to how he liked them and pinched a nipple. “I can see you are going to need a lot of practice at this, aren't you?”

“Yes Leonard.”

_Crack_!

“Three! Thank you Leonard!”

The arms stayed right this time but now the knees were apart again. He pushed them together. “You're lucky you have those panties there to remind you where you're supposed to be.”

_Crack_!

“Four! Thank you Leonard!”

She was beginning to loose focus. Both legs and arms jumped out of place. “You're lucky I'm not adding on extra lashes for bad form Christine.” He scolded.

Her bottom was almost uniformly bright red and her legs were trembling but God the smell of her sex. It was drooling down her leg like she was in heat. He ran a hand over his face, wondering if he was dreaming. This didn't feel like a dream though. The smell of her and the feel of her under his hand was painful in it's exquisite detail. And he was unbelievable hard.

He ran a finger down her slit, causing her to shiver, and licked some of her juice off his fingers. “You never disappoint do you? You always taste just like honey for me.”

He got off the bed and went into the kitchen. He didn't bother to tell her not to move, she wasn't going anywhere. With trembling hands he got out the wine and managed to open it. The label said it should breathe for thirty minutes if he recalled correctly.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, both hands against it and head down for as long as he could. He wanted to give her a break, really he did. But when he looked up and saw her there he went back into the bedroom and knelt on the bed. He ran a hand over her bottom and felt that she was trembling.

“Are you su...”

“Four. Thank you Leonard.”

_Crack_!

She held her form this time, though he hadn't gone any easier on her. Her legs stayed together and her arms stayed outstretched.

He ran a hand down her her flank and she began to raise her head. “I don't recall telling you to move.” Her head snapped back down.

He kneaded her flesh of her bottom for a moment to minimize the bruising. “You're going to have trouble sitting down tomorrow. Every time you do you'll be reminded of me, kneeling over you with my belt. God I'm going to enjoy the staff meeting: watching you squirm as you try to sit on that sore ass.”

He slid off the bed and went back to the living room. He poured two glasses of wine and set them on the coffee table. Then he sat in the couch facing the bedroom. The floor plan was open so he could see her over the low dividing wall that marked the bedroom from the living room. He took a moment to admire the view before he said, “okay Christine. Get up off of the bed and come in here.”

Slowly she slid off the bed. Her panties fell the floor and she bent to pull them up. “No, leave them around your ankles. Leave your dress the way it is too. Come in here and kneel between my legs.”

She came slowly. Perhaps because the panties acted as a hobble, forcing her to take small steps. Perhaps because her bottom hurt. Or perhaps because, like him, she wanted this to last as long as possible. She knelt between his legs and God was she a sight to see: dress bunched around her waist and breasts still exposed, panties around her ankles and her face flushed with lust.

“Maybe next time I'll have you crawl in here.”

He trailed a finger over her plump lips absentmindedly and then leaned down to pull her dress down farther, exposing both breasts fully. She looked so debauched.

“Do you know what comes next?”

“Yes Leonard, I think so.”

“Good. Take out my cock and see how far down it you can get.”

The first part was easy. He was already so hard he nearly sprung free himself once she'd unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. She leaned forward and started slowly. When she took him into her mouth he leaned back and gasped at the sensation. She swirled her tongue around the tip and bobbed down on it appealingly.

“Get on with it Christine, you know what I want.”

She pushed down slightly farther this time, just breaching the entrance of her throat with him. She bobbed there for a few more strokes, using one hand to stroke the part of him that she couldn't reach.

“Not even close to good enough Christine. I want your best.”

This time she made a small gagging noise and gasped when she came up but once she was done she pushed back down again, a little farther this time until she choked again. She managed that five times until finally she had to come up to pant a the tip of him. A little strand of drool and precum connected her lips to the tip of his cock. She had teared up and her mascara was smudged. Her lipstick was smeared as well, some of it on him, some of it on her face. The only thing left unmussed in her outfit was her hair, still perfectly arrayed in a stylish bun. Often when she took him into her mouth he gripped her by the hair but this time he'd kept his hands carefully to his sides, letting her do all the work.

She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. His heart felt like it might beat out of his chest. How could she have let him do this to _her_? How could she have wanted him to do this to _her_? He had never done anything to deserve a girl like this in his bed, much less his life, much less kneeling on the floor in front of him choking on his cock to please him. But there was no mistaking the hunger in her eyes. _She_ wanted him to do this.

“Are you trying to impress me tonight or not Christine?”

She pushed back down and this time when she gagged, she swallowed too and for a moment he was tight within her throat, pressed deliciously down. Her nose almost touching his pubic hair. He had to fight not to buck his hip up, to push farther into that warm, inviting tunnel. She pulled back, took a gasping breath, and managed it again. Drool ran down the sides of his cock and she shuddered again but managed to stay down for a little bit longer. She pulled back, took another breath, and pushed in again but by then it was took much. Her face was red and tears were streaming down her face.

She would have done it though. She would have pushed back down on him until he'd come, he knew. And that fact made him feel a little bit unhinged. He gripped her by the hair and pushed her down onto the carpet beside the coffee table. She didn't have to be told to assume the presentation position which was a good thing because he knelt quickly behind her and thrust into her with a brutal pump.

She moaned in relief as he plowed into her. He was so far ahead of her from the blow job, almost ready to come, so he kicked her knees apart, reaching around to manipulate her clit. The sobbing sound she made was like sweet honey on his tongue. “Let me hear you sweet girl. Beg for me.”

“Oh Leonard, please... oh God, please Leonard harder. Oh please...” She was incoherent already but she didn't stop even a moment later when her whole body arched and she squeezed tight around him almost harder than she ever had before. Normally she could maintain presentation through her orgasm but this time he had to catch her hips to keep her from falling over as passion rocked through her. It took only two more pumps for him to follow her over the falls with a roar. He plunged into her one last time and spilled, gripping her hips and bruised bottom tightly.

When he was finished and she had stopped contracting around him he slid out gently and, with a certain amount of apprehension, rolled her onto her back gently. Her eyes were glazed but to his surprise and relief she was smiling up at him with a dim, goofy grin. He leaned down over her and kissed her breast and sacrum. “You look a little slap happy Christine.”

She giggled, running a hand over her face. “I feel a little slap happy. God I must look a fright.”

He kissed his way up to her cheek. “You look beautiful, as always.”

“I suppose you're obliged to say this, being at least twenty-five percent to blame for it.”

“Only twenty-five percent? I'll have to try harder next time.” He froze suddenly, realizing what he'd said. “If of course you want a next time... you're not of course obliged. I don't mean to assume...”

She frowned. “You don't want to do it again?”

He swallowed. “Did you enjoy it?”

She groaned and covered her face. “Oh Leonard how can you ask me that?”

He caught her hands and dragged them down so he could see her face. “Look at me Christine. Did you enjoy that?”

She met his eyes reluctantly. “Yes. Very much so.”

“Why is that so hard to say?”

She shrugged noncommittally. “I don't know... I suppose... I suppose... I guess I just don't think that I'm supposed to you know, enjoy those kinds of things. It's not... it's just not really who I think I am.”

He grinned down. “I'm glad to have given you the copy of Whitman but it doesn't seem like you read it very closely.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well aren't you large? Don't you contain multitudes? You should reread Song of Myself.”

She smiled shyly. “I suppose so. I guess I just never thought that this would be one of them. I know my mother doesn't approve. Oh she loves me but she can't understand how I can let myself be debased so. She thinks it diminishes the other things I do: my nursing, my sailing, everything.”

He sighed. “You don't look any diminished to me. But come now Christine if we're going to have a serious conversation on the floor by the coffee table, at least let me get settled first. Scoot over and let me get comfortable.”

She laughed and moved over so he could lie next to her and scoop her up so that he was cradling her against his wide chest.

“That's better. Now what is all this about your mother thinking you're diminished? And kick off those sodden panties while you're at it. That's ridiculous.”

She struggled for a moment and then flung them aside. “Oh I'm being dramatic. I suppose I just wasn't raised to feel that I was supposed to enjoy sex. At least not very much. Once my family found out I was an Omega there was a little bit of a change. I knew that if I ever had a heat that I wouldn't be able to control myself of course but that was what suppressors were for. I just... I don't know what I'm talking about.”

He shrugged. “Well it's hard for all of us to untangle our second genders from our sex lives. I sometimes wonder where the Alpha ends and where Leonard McCoy the man begins.” _Particularly when it comes to you, honey_. “There's no shame in what you like though, not ever.”

He could feel her frown against his chest. “But you do think of me as an inferior, don't you?” There was no accusation in her voice, or at least not much.

He sighed. “In the sickbay certainly. You are my inferior there and I am your commanding officer.”

“You know what I mean.”

“It isn't as simple as all that.”

“That sounds like a yes.”

“Only if you won't let me finish. It's true that I'm stronger and faster than you are. I can make you kneel in front of me and present... I like to make you kneel in front of me and present. In a lot of ways it's true that I appear to have the power. But that isn't exactly the full story either. Heat drives rut and not the other way around for a reason. The Omega offers the Bond bite and the Alpha accepts, not the other way around for a reason. The dynamic always starts with an Omega. An unwilling Omega can be raped, certainly, but never rutted and never Bonded. An Alpha can force and Omega to do quite a few things but none of the ones that are ever most important.”

_I can't force you to stay, for example_ , he wanted to stay. _I could mark you as many times as you offered and the only thing it would change was how hard it would be to let you go and how guilty I would feel afterward. Eventually you would stop presenting for me and letting go might kill me by then._

Unwilling to dwell on that thought, not when he was feeling so good, he stood quickly and pulled her to her feet, beginning to unbutton her dress. “Give me those clothes and then go take a shower. We can have dinner and wine when you return.”

_It might already be too late for reeling this back in, at least from my end,_ he thought as he watched her ass, red and inviting, disappear off into the bathroom. He took a sip of the wine on the table. _How am I ever going to let her go?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You were warned about the impending smut! Please let me know what you think! What do you think will happen next? What do you think Bones and Christine are thinking? Let me know because reviews make me write faster!


	6. Chapter 11

Chapter 11--

 

That was not the last time he used the belt on her. Not by a long shot. She took to provoking him to use it so often he finally had to command her to just ask when she wanted it and had to make her get into fully presentation position before he even half believed her. He bent her over the back of the bed again and lay across her with her arms pinned beneath her.

“Show me my Mark Christine!”

Dutifully she'd turned her head to show him.

“Promise me you'll ask next time you want the belt.”

“I promise.”

“Say the full thing with my name.”

“I promise just to ask next time I want the belt Leonard.”

He rocked his hips into hers for emphasis. “Jesus Christine all you have to do is go get it out of the closet. I don't enjoy being angry with you.”

The little provocateur beneath him wiggled her hips and grinned smugly up at him. “Liar.”

He tried not to but despite himself he'd snorted in laughter. “Promise breaker. You said you wouldn't provoke me anymore when you wanted it.”

She licked her lips. “Well with you on top of me like this I can hardly reach the closet now can I?”

Not long after that memorable afternoon he'd bought a riding crop and a thin, whippy little bamboo cane as well. He put them in the back of his closet without comment but it wasn't more than twenty four hours before she brought them back to him. The riding crop she enjoyed quite a bit but the cane she had... a more complicated relationship with. And for that it grew to be a favorite of Leonard's.

“It's the cane or nothing today,” he'd tell her when she brought him the belt or the crop.

He liked to watch her struggle to decide. She always picked the cane of course but he savored that moment of indecision. That she submitted to it for him always made him rock hard.

Not long after that he found that she'd left several lengths of soft, silk rope neatly tied up by the cane and crop and “her” belt. He shook his head though when she brought it to him. “No. Anything you won't do just because I tell you to do it, I won't tie you up for. That makes it too easy on you.”

She frowned. “What about just my hands or knees? Or maybe a blindfold. You could make it into a challenge, I know you could.”

“What are you going to do for me in return?”

She winked.”Same thing I always do. Get naked and do what I'm told.”

He laughed. “Okay, but not these. Soft as they are they're too thin. They'll cut you to ribbons. I'll have to improvise.”

He picked a night when they had been invited to a big gala on another Starship to start his new game with her. She'd gotten off her shift before he did so she was reading on the couch when he returned to their quarters. He taken off his shoes and shirt and snapped his fingers, pointing to the carpet in front of him. “Clothes off.”

She'd risen obediently, stripping out of the dress she was wearing before folding it carefully, adding her bra and underwear and then come to kneel just where he had pointed, between his legs. He unzipped his pants and took out his cock. She knew what was coming but waited until he told her to start.

Lately he'd been making her do the work when she took him into her mouth but that was not the case tonight. He fisted her hair and used her mouth roughly as though she were little more than an object to be used for his pleasure. When he finished her lips were raw and red and her eyes teary and he'd come down her throat.

After he'd come he waited for a moment before withdrawing from her mouth, as he always did. Then, from his pocket he withdrew a thin, plastic case. She recognized it immediately of course: it was the suture thread they used in the sickbay to sow up wounds. It was strong but ultra thin, lightweight and reabsorbed into wounds in a matter of days because it degraded in the presence of heat. He drew out an arm's length knelt in front of her.

“Arms up.”

She obeyed and he wrapped one end around her waist just under her breasts, neatly tying it off with a surgeon's knot. Then he walked back to the bed, pulling out the thread as he went. In his bare feet he stepped up onto their bed and opened the metal covering to the power-coupling just over the headboard. He tied it to the main circuit that fed electricity to their room. The tether would give her almost free range in the bedroom but it wouldn't let her reach the living room or kitchen.

When he turned around he saw by her confused frown that she'd understood where he'd tied it off. The main circuit wasn't exactly hot but it was warm enough that it would melt through the surgical in he guessed about half an hour. She knew enough not to ask any questions though.

She waited patiently on her knees as he walked back into the kitchen and poured himself a drink. He got a beer out of the fridge for her and poured himself a ginger ale. He put both on the coffee table, put his feet up and took a comfortable position on the couch facing her.

“Normally being tied up is about trust or control. But that doesn't make any sense for you. There isn't anything you wouldn't let me do to you. If I told you to hold a certain position you would do your best until I told you to stop. Bonds like that would only help you, and I enjoy watching you struggle. Or I suppose it's about making it more challenging for you physically, which again, I could do with a word. So that's all quite boring to me.” He pointed to the surgical thread. “This I find a little more interesting.

“Here is my game. I've just had an orgasm and you're still nice and wet for me. I could go in there and get it up for you again if I wanted to... fuck you out just like you like, stretch you wide, maybe even knot you if you're extra good. But what's in it for me? I'm satisfied. It's up to you to convince me to do that and you've got until the power-coupling burns through that thread to do it. If not it's five hard strokes with the cane to play again tomorrow. Does that sound fair to you?”

“Yes Leonard.”

“You want to play this game?”

“Yes Leonard.”

“I know sometimes I play nice with the cane. Believe me when I say that will not be the case tonight. The price to pay tomorrow is five _hard_ strokes, and I mean just that.”   
“Yes Leonard.”

He almost smiled. Usually there was hesitation when the cane entered into it. Tonight there was none.

That first night it was easy to resist. Her first try was pathetic. She tried a number of different presentation poses and a little unenthusiastic begging. She had vastly underestimated him though. He wasn't trying to go over there and fuck her. He only had to last through thirty minutes or so and then she was his to do with as he liked again.

When the cord finally snapped she looked almost perplexed that she'd lost. He beat her with a cane on the floor, five stinging strokes so close together they'd made her cry. Then he took her by the scruff of the neck to the side of the bed and fucked her throat again mercilessly until he exploded into it for the second time in as many hours. “Go get changed for the gala,” he'd said when he'd finished with her.

Later when she'd winced imperceptibly as she took her seat beside him at the gala he'd been unable to contain a grin. “You look ravished this evening honey,” he told her with a gallant kiss on the cheek.

She gave him an amused grin and licked her lips. “Funny, I only feel famished.”

He wouldn't have thought it possible but he was half hard in his trousers.

The next day she put in a little more effort. The begging at least was vastly improved. She knelt on his side of the bed, legs spread wide. “Come make me feel better Leonard. Please, I need you in me. God I want you so bad. Can't you see how badly I want you? Can't you smell how badly I want you? Come over here and use me like you know I need. I want you to be rough with me. Flip me over on my stomach and push my head down and my ass up. Slam into me like I like. Fuck into me hard. I'll keep my legs together and my pussy so tight for you I swear. Make me feel like I won't walk tomorrow. Make me feel like you're ripping me open with my massive cock.”

“I've been telling you for months to tell me what you want in bed and all I get is that 'Yes Leonard' 'No Leonard' shit,” he told her while she was still reeling from the first blow with the cane. “I should have thought of this game months ago. Don't worry. If you ever win you'll get all of that in more.”

_Crack_!

She groaned in pain, a little stripe blooming across her ass. “How were you just begging me to take you again? Face down and ass up right? Show me that.”

She pushed her face into the carpet and tilted her hips at just the angle he liked to fuck her at, knees together and perfectly presented though she knew she'd get nothing more than a blow.

_Crack_!

Another moan of pain and she dropped the posture. “If you drop posture again I'll add another stroke with the cane Christine or we'll stop playing this game tomorrow.”

She dropped posture once more but accepted the sixth stroke to play again the next day. That time he had his second blow job in the shower with a glass of bourbon. “Reminds me of vacationing at my parent's house,” he told her just as he was about to come. He took another sip of bourbon and put it down on the soap ledge so he could grab her head with both hands.

She tried a number of other things for the next five days as they played out that game. Her begging got incredible. “The things that come out of your mouth make me seem like a fucking saint,” he told her as she knelt before him on the couch, dutifully bobbing up and down on his cock. “I swear I don't know where you get it from. Slow down and make this last for me Christine, I want to savor it.”

He turned on a holovid and tried to ignore her as she worked on him but he didn't last half as long as he thought he would and soon enough he was cumming down her throat again. He tucked himself back in and pulled her up after she was done so they were lying on the couch. Him clothed and her stark naked, sprawled out on top of him. He was fully dressed and she was drooling her juice down her leg. He stroked her hair and restarted the vid so she could watch from the beginning.

“Will you at least just use your fingers on me?”

“No honey.”

“May I please have some of your bourbon?”

“Yes of course.”

She rested her beautiful head just over his heart and he wondered in amazement that she didn't hear how hard it was beating. He cradled her to his chest in one hand and with the other he stroked through her silky hair. It was, he reflected, better than the blow job had been in a lot of ways. Just this quiet moment with the two of them. It was a rare moment that his Alpha was so satisfied it left him alone long enough to enjoy her. And she was so lovely just to him as a human, boneless after such hard use and completely relaxed in his arms.

Not for the first time did he allow himself to wonder what she would be like if she really belonged to him. Not the Alpha but Leonard McCoy. It was so rare that he allowed himself to enjoy her like this, just simply relaxing in his arms. And usually it was only after he'd used her so roughly he could hardly feel more ashamed of himself. Much as he knows how much she liked those sorts of games—hell, much as he liked those sorts of games—he always felt distinctly ashamed afterward. She wasn't his, whatever he snarled in her ear before she came. And he couldn't help but think that a better man would keep that more in mind.

“You're going to have to wash these jeans tomorrow. I'm practically dripping onto them.”

“Hmmm... so I will.”

“I just don't know what you want.”

“You'll figure it out. For now just lay quietly and watch the holovid honey.”

But he wasn't watching it himself. He lay listening to her heartbeat, the slow whisper of her breath and the blood pounding in her veins.

On the third day she got creative. When he tied her off and took his seat on the couch she went over to the book stand and got out Leaves of Grass. She lay across the bottom of their bed, feet in the air and opened it up to her bookmark.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Waiting for you to come in here and either fuck me or beat me,” she said without looking up. “The choice is ultimately yours.”

“Marks for creativity Christine,” he said as he beat her and the red stripes bloomed across her ass. “But unfortunately these particular marks aren't what you were hoping for I think.”

By the fifth day it was the longest she'd gone without having an orgasm since they'd moved in together and she was really frantic. He could tell when they got up, when they went to work and when they came home. The only time she really focused all day was during his first blow job. “God you really were born to the do this,” he breathed as she worked away at him.

Once she was tied off she paced the edge of her rope for almost ten minutes. She didn't beg but she was panting and for the first time he felt himself getting uncomfortably hard in his pants. She was always inspiring but the way she was looking at him with such naked hunger made him feel out of control for the first time. She knelt down at the edge of the rope and smelled the air, scenting him.

Then, slowly, she slipped a finger between her legs. He put the PADD down and got up. “Stop that Christine.”

“Come over here and make me.”

“I'll add an extra lash tonight if you don't stop that.”

“Add three.”

“I'll add ten.”

“However many you like. Just please come fuck me Leonard. ”

He started towards her and stopped. Her eyes were half closed and she was slowly working her fingers up and down her slit. Her body was beginning to rise and fall slowly with the motion, raising and lowering her hips to give her more pressure against herself. “I wish it was you. God my fingers are such a poor substitute. But if I can look, if I can imagine you... I know I can get myself there.”

She slipped a finger inside and began to pant in earnest, rocking against herself a little faster. “God your cock. I haven't felt it in me for five days. It's too long. I'll go crazy if you don't fuck me good Leonard. Please come fuck me good. Please don't make me come like this.”

With a snarl he was on her. He flipped her over onto her knees, snapping the cord in the process. His cock was out and already he could feel his knot swelling. He was going to knot her tonight he was sure. He plunged into her and she howled with relief. “Oh thank you, Leonard. Oh thank you so much. Oh God it feels so big after so long. Oh God it's going to split me in two. Fuck me harder Leonard, oh Jesus fuck me harder! Please knot me, please knot me, please tie me up and knot me so good!”

She was pressing her thighs together and bucking hard against him. Each stroke went fully in at a punishing speed and angle but she was almost sobbing with relief. When his knot got too big she began to beg again. “Hold me open just a little longer Leonard. Let me feel how big it is. Let me feel how big you are. Split me open and then shove it in me.”

He did. She was squirming almost, her hands clutching the carpet but she wasn't moving to fuck either back or forward on his knot. She was letting him control when it went fully into her.

Finally, almost too late, he pushed into her with a painful pop. They both came immediately. He'd missed the feeling of her tight and spasming around him more than he'd realized. The blow jobs had been nice but it was nothing compared to this: the exquisite tightness of her, the trembling of her body under his. He lay full across her, pressing her down on her knees and pushing himself into her as far as he could

When they were both spent he picked her up and cradled her against his chest, managing to get them both onto the bed. He pulled the covers over them and kissed her cheek. “You always win eventually, don't you my clever girl.”

She turned as far as she could towards him while they were tied and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. “Feels pretty good to be a winner.”

He kissed her back for a moment. Enjoying the soft yield of her mouth and the smell of her so close. He cupped her chin and drew her towards him. So rarely did she kiss him and so rarely did he feel he had the right to kiss her he was enjoying this almost more than the fucking.

“Are you going to give me my lashes tonight or in the morning?”

“What lashes?”

“You said you'd give me ten with the cane.”

“Oh honey, I'm not giving you those. It was a bet, you won.”

She frowned. “You said you would though.”

He kissed her forehead. “In the morning then. Not tonight. Tonight just sleep and enjoy your winnings, sweet girl.”

 

 

 

It wasn't long after the game with the power-coupling that he came home to find her crying in the shower. He couldn't hear the sound of her over the water but he smelled her distress instantly when he came into their chambers. It was the hardest thing in the world not to go rip open the shower door and demand and explanation. _She deserves some privacy_ , he reminded himself, _she deserves the right to secrets_.

“How are you?” He asked when she came out of the shower, struggling to keep his voice neutral.

“Fine, thanks. How was your day?”

He fought the urge for half a moment but finally followed her into the closet. “Christine I need to know why you were crying in the shower.”

She turned like a startled rabbit. “I wasn't...”

“Christine...” His voice was deadly serious.

She bit her lip, frowning. “It... it isn't anything to do with you.”

_If it's to do with you then it's to do with me_.

“Are you going to insist?”

He carded his fingers through his hair frantically, unable to meet her eyes. “Do you want me to?” Everything in him was screaming to walk over there and push her down onto her knees, into a mounting position if need be, and hold her there until her hormones made her pliable. Only then, when she was fully at his mercy, could he be sure she would be honest.

She wiped away another tear and shook her head. He could tell she was trying not to speak for fear she'd sob.

He took a low steadying breath. His hands were clenching violently. He felt like his skin was crawling with ants and he felt too hot and too cold all at once. He took in a slow, ragged breath and nodded. “Okay Christine... okay.”

She came to him and he folded her into his arms, pulling her against his chest and he felt the first sob rack her. “Thank you Leonard.”

Two days later he woke in a panic to the sound of her sobbing beside him. He rolled over and turned on the lights, fully away. Adrenaline was already pounding through him. He couldn't have felt more awake if he'd found a snake in his bed. “What is wrong Christine? Are you hurt?”

She curled towards him, putting her face into the crook of his armpit and crying all the harder. “I'm sorry... I'm sorry I woke you.”

He held her closer. “What's wrong, Christine, just tell me what's wrong.”

But she only shook her head.

The bond was waning. He could feel it too. She was bound to get emotional as the hormones waned. Their mating was still incredible but he was knotting her less and less and it was beginning to drive her a little crazy. It was a delicate time he knew for them both. Whatever her rational brain thought the Omega felt his lack of attention to her Mark, that he hadn't reopened it as a profound neglect. The only reason most Alphas would go so long without reopening it would have been death or abandonment. Some part of her brain was telling her, quite literally, that her Alphas was dead. More and more during sex she turned and presented to him and more and more he had to fight not to accep the offer.

Speaking in the most fundamental terms Leonard McCoy was in no turmoil about Christine Chapel. With every inch of his body—right from the Alpha part of him to the Doctor part of him—he wanted what was best for her. The only thing was he couldn't quite get a handle on what that meant. What was _best_ for her? The Alpha in him had a clear idea: pushing her small body down beneath his and using it hard. _Mark, claim, bite, MINE_. But the man in Leonard had strong feelings for her as well, and he thought otherwise. _Freedom. She needs to get away from me. She needs to be free._

 

 

 

 


End file.
